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THE 


Witness of the Sun. 


BY 


AMfiLIE 

AUTHOR OF “the QUICK 



“ On the earth the broken arcs ; in heaven the perfect round.” 

Robert Browning. 


LIBRARY 

OF THE 

6UP/.COUNCIL, 

SO.’.JURISDICTION* 


PHILADBIiPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
1889 . 


TZs 

\a1i' 


Copyright, 1889, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 


iV 

[All Hyhts reserved.^ 


Exchange, 

Uibir&ry of Supreme Council 

Aug a0«1940 


TO 

MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER, 


A THANK-OFFERING. 






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THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


I. 

What was one to do with a young girl who 
sketched ideal heads on her slate underneath half- 
finished sums in decimal fractions, who altered the 
profiles of the Roman emperors in her Italian his- 
tory, and who frankly declared that the unexplained 
draperies above the figures in the Sistine Madonna 
reminded her disagreeably of the parted curtains in a 
cm'pt-lit f Miss Matilda Herbert acknowledged her- 
self at a loss. She even suggested, on occasions, the 
advisability of resigning her position as governess in 
the Demarini household. To this, however, the 
countess would never so much as give ear. Her 
good Herbert was as much a part of her daily life 
as her warm bath or her mandarin orange before 
breakfast. She had superintended the education of 
Ilva for ten years, why not for half as many more ? 
Besides, one could easily prevent any tampering with 
the imperial outlines by purchasing an unillustrated 
history; and as for the presumptuous criticisms of 
Raphael, her good Herbert had only to close her ears 
and affect deafness. 


7 


8 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

When Ilva began the ^neid, however, it was even 
more painful. She openly ridiculed the famous hero, 
and not only laughed but drew him to scorn on that 
ever-to-be-dreaded slate, — yes, pictured him in ghastly 
white outlines, with tears twice the size of his noble 
head coursing down entirely to the wooden frame of 
her slate. 

^^He is- always crying,’’ she said. Dio mio ! 
fancy trying to make a hero of a man who is always 
as damp as they say the climate of England is ! He 
cries for everything, — absolutely. The fires of love ? 
Pouf! He could have put them out with a bucket 
of tears in less than twenty minutes. He a hero ! 
He was an ass. See, here are his ears. Look, 
signorina, I make his ears I” And at this juncture 
she would hold up the slate with another libellous 
representation of the celebrated Greek. 

Ilva was at ten a very tall child, with a figure 
which, though delicate, was supple and strong as 
steel. Her hair, of a pale silverish gold, suggestive 
of moonlight through amber, grew in five well-de- 
fined points above her noble, low brow. Her skin 
had the clear w’hiteness of almonds which have been 
soaked in water. Her eyes, large and lustrous, were 
the tint of a spring rain-cloud, — that indescribable 
bluish gray-violet which seems to make blue cold by 
contrast, gray harsh, and violet sentimental. 

Her nose and mouth, while handsome, were too 
large for her face, at present. In a word, with some 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


9 


very lovely points she was plain, and with decided 
grace of movement she was, on occasion, awkward. 
Being entirely aware of these disheartening facts, she 
felt them the more keenly, perhaps, as her little friend 
Nathali Zanova was a dainty piece of plump perfec- 
tion, whose nurse was stopped many times a day with 
admiring exclamations and inquiries : Oh, what a 
beautiful little angel ! What hair ! What eyes ! — 
like a fawn’s. One could see the little beauty was 
of the nobility;” and then sometimes in an aside, 
“ What a contrast ! The other has fine hair and eyes, 
to be sure, but so pale; and then her mouth and 
nose ! She makes a capital foil, however. The little 
cherub’s mother must be a clever woman.” Nathali, 
for her part, was as conscious of her charms as her 
friend was of her defects, and had a little strut which 
she assumed upon the street or in the public gardens, 
and which irritated Ilva to a limitless degree. This 
was, of course, when they were much younger. Na- 
thali was now twelve, and Ilva ten. 

She was not so intimate with Nathali as of yore, 
finding her too much occupied in coveting the toilets 
of her mother’s guests, and musing upon the prob- 
able magnificence of her future marriage, which she 
frankly avowed she hoped would take place almost 
immediately after her dehut, Ilva did not care for 
toilets, and had startlingly precocious ideas concerning 
love and matrimony. On the eve of her tenth birth- 
day she had begun a romance in the following manner ; 


10 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

Married love is like champagne with the sparkles 
out/^ This sentence the good and indefatigable Her- 
bert had found and at once torn up; but, as Ilva 
said, with an expressive little grin which showed 
both rows of sharp little teeth, No matter ! It is 
written in my brain. You cannot tear my brain up 
and put it in your waste-basket, Herbert. That is 
all.’^ 

She was very moderate in her ambitions. She 
only desired to become a painter more great than 
Sanzio, a poet more original than Dante, and a 
novelist more striking than Alessandro Manzoni. 

The countess, who was perhaps fonder of her peace 
than of the Demarini jewels, did not occupy herself 
much with the affairs of her little daughter, beyond 
seeing that she had plenty of clothes and school- 
books, and taking her sometimes to drive in her 
victoria. 

Ilva decidedly preferred walking alone to driving 
with her mother. At the back of the Villa Dema- 
rini there rose abruptly a steep hill, in whose side 
were set rough stone steps, which led to a level space 
on top, crowned with olive-trees and ilex and the 
ruins of a little marble temple. There was also a 
marble seat, with some Latin words curving about 
its weather-beaten back. There were numberless 
grasshoppers and lizards, and a rose-tree which was 
in full bloom, its red petals resting upon the broken 
limbs of a fallen wood-god below, like drops of 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


11 


fragrant blood. Still farther up there, were pines. 
The hill-side was tawny and resinous with the with- 
ered needles. The living leaves above seemed ever 
mourning their dead comrades below ; all night and 
all day they sighed ceaselessly. Then there were 
always orioles in the great oleanders, so tame that 
they would peck crumbs from the girPs hands and 
even from the top of her bright head. There could 
be nothing more delightful, Ilva thought, than to 
lie at one’s ease along that old marble seat, with 
one’s locked hands for a pillow, and watch the rest- 
less blue of the sea between the serpent-like stems 
of the old olive-trees. Their leaves had the dusty 
silver of a moth’s wing, even in the brightest sun- 
light, and their gentle clapper reminded this some- 
what fantastic child of a subdued accompaniment of 
castanets to which the sunlight danced. One could 
see so far, too, on every side. There lay the village 
to the right, its white walls and houses glittering in 
the garish light, like the foam-cap of that great green 
wave of verdure which rolled all the way from the 
foot of the distant mountains. Then to the left the 
pretty huddling of another little village, farther away, 
among its palms and olives and pomegranates and 
almond-trees, and the white gleam of the broad road, 
and the dashes of color in the skirts of the peasant- 
women who moved along it to and from the village, 
some with great panniers of lemons and oranges upon 
their shoulders, some driving or riding the shag-eared 


12 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


little donkeys that ambled placidly beneath similar 
burdens. From this delectable eminence they were 
only blurs of pale and ruddy gold to Ilva, in the 
same way that the sea was only a vast twinkle, as 
vividly blue as the wet wing of a bird that flies 
through a sunbeam while one looks. There were no 
waves, only that endless, tireless dance of azure light 
which reminded the girl of the breath-broken light 
of the sapphires which she was sometimes allowed 
to clasp about her mother’s throat on grand occasions. 
Yes, that was just the way they shimmered. How 
if one were a giantess and had a giant lover to whom 
one might say, No, never will I be thy wife until 
thou hast hardened that sea there into a sapphire 
pendant, for which thou must also twist me a great 
rope of golden stars and of sunbeams. Yes, and 
when thou hast completed that, I will have thee drag 
down the canopy of heaven to make me a robe, and 
I will have also the sun for a clasp to my girdle, and 
the Milky Way for a veil, and I will have — ^yes, I 
will have — I will have ” 


II. 

But here she had been interrupted in her soliloquy. 
She knew who he was the moment she looked up. 
She had seen his photograph the afternoon before, 
when she had been allowed to come in for dessert at 
luncheon and the people at table had been discussing 
him. He was the young Russian who had just writ- 




THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 13 

ten a terrible novel, for which he was to have been 
exiled to Siberia, but, owing to some powerful influ- 
ence, the Czar had merely banished him instead. 
She had wished then with all her heart to see him 
and speak with him. She thought perhaps that he 
would listen to some of her manuscripts and have a 
sympathy for her. She too was going to be a great 
novelist. Perhaps she might even be banished from 
Italy some day. She had been extremely angry when 
her mother told her that she could not possibly allow 
her to be at luncheon again to-day. Ilva’s anger 
was of the steely, white-hot kind that always burns 
one’s self far more than one’s adversary. She had 
come to her olive-hidden retreat as usual, and had 
brought with her some sheets of note-paper, upon 
which she had written again, in large, determined 
letters, Married love is like champagne with the 
sparkles out.” How that would have impressed the 
young Russian, — that sentence which she felt to be 
masterly ! She was sure no one would have sus- 
pected that a little girl of ten had originated it. 
And in his photograph he had such kind, deep eyes, 
and such a gentle, high-arched mouth. She was 
sure that he would have encouraged her and felt for 
her. And then to be denied all these delightful pos- 
sibilities merely because she was yet in short frocks 
and wore her hair in a hideous queue! She had 
torn the thick bands apart, in a kind of impotent 
frenzy, as this thought had come to her, and was 
2 


14 the witness of the sun. 

lying back among their riotous splendor, when the 
voice had interrupted her. 

Nadrovine thought her asleep until her murmured 
soliloquy caught his ear, and he listened in silence 
until she hesitated; then he interrupted her with 
these words ; 

And what wilt thou have next, little Titaness ? 
Possibly the keys of paradise to hang up in thy 
drawing-room under a knot of scarlet ribbon. Or 
is blue thy color 

“ I do not know quite what you mean, signor,’^ 
she replied, sitting erect, and gathering back her 
unbound hair with both hands. I am sorry you 
heard me saying such silly things. You will think 
me very foolish.” 

don’t see that there was anything very silly 
in your words,” said Nadroviue, kindly. To tell 
you the truth, I thought them very pretty. Are all 
your ideas as big as those ?” 

“ They are not small,” she admitted’, with some 
reserve, and a haughtiness which he thought very 
appropriate to her pale and sternly-cut little features. 

You are one of Madame Demarini’s daughters, 
are you not?” he then asked, following out his own 
train of thought rather than trying to sustain the 
thread of their conversation. 

She looked at him calmly. “ Yes, I am Ilva,” 
she replied. Please don’t mention having found 
me up here. Nathali’s nurse would be sure to think 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


15 


it a good place for her to play in. Nathali is my 
friend, — or used to be.” 

You like, then, to be alone?” said Nadrovine, who 
was still standing. He chinked some bright pebbles 
w^hich he had boyishly transferred from the beach to 
his pocket, as he looked down at her gravely. He 
thought the pale, unchildish face, with its oriflamme 
of vivid hair, singularly interesting and attractive. 

You like to be alone? Is that it ?” he repeated. 

^^Yes, that is it,” she answered. am never 
alone except when I am up here. No one ever 
comes here but me, the steps are so steep, and there 
is always so much wind. It is not cold, though ; it 
is never cold here; and if one wants to write, one has 
only to make paper-weights of bits of stone. That 
statue’s three fingers and heel make capital ones, and 
the bench is delightful for a table.” 

^^Ah, you write?” said Nadrovine, amused, but 
not allowing any sign of it to escape him. He had 
known several little girls who wrote, and he was 
always very ready indeed to read their manuscripts. 

May I sit there by you ?” he said now ; “ and will 
you show me some stories, if you have them up here 
with you ?” 

The swift rush of color to her pale face made her 
radiant for a moment. It was as rosy and as sudden 
a transformation as that in a pantomime. Nadrovine 
saw in that moment that she would probably grow up 
to be very beautiful. He was beginning to wonder 


16 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


'svhat she would read to him from her little blotted 
roll of manuscript. They were always blotted, he 
remembered, and always in a roll. But, lo ! on the 
bit of paper she slipped into his hands was only one 
sentence, unblotted and heavily legible : Married 
love is like champagne with the sparkles out.^^ He 
read it once, once again, and then looked at the little 
authoress somewhat curiously. 

What is this, doushka ?’’ he asked. The title, 
or a sentiment that you are going to enlarge upon ? 
And where did you ever get hold of it 
Then said Ilva, proudly, — 

“It is mine. It is not a title. I wrote jt.^^ 
“Wrote it? Composed it?^^ echoed Nadrovine, 
looking as astounded as her expectation had pictured 
him. Then, with a sudden change of tone, “ How 
old are you, little one 

She looked at him, and caught back another wisp 
of hair which the wind had blown loose again. “ I 
am ten, — ten one week ago,” she answered. She was 
very anxious to know what he would say next, and 
moved unconsciously a little nearer to him along the 
old marble seat. Then this celebrated and banished 
young Kussian did a rather strange thing: Ilva, 
thinking of it afterwards, wondered how she could 
have allowed it. He put a gentle and at the same 
time strong arm about her slender shoulders and 
drew her to his side, still holding the sheet of paper 
in his other hand. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


17 


Doushka/’ he said, I have a little cousin whom. 
I love very much. She is just a year older than you. 
She too wishes to write, and some day I think she 
will do so to her hearths content. I say to you just 
what I would say to her. Tear up these words, and 
try to forget them. Also, never write of what you 
cannot, in some sort at least, comprehend. Softly, 
now. Don^t be angry with me. Don’t pull away. 
It is a very clever sentence, — cleverer, perhaps, than 
you have any idea of. It might have been written 
by one three times your age. Still, it is an unpleasant 
sort of sentence, too. Let me see. How can I best 
explain to you? Well, then, for instance, suppose 
you had said, ^ Married love is like champagne, un- 
palatable and flat when one allows the cork of sym- 
pathy to become shrivelled.’ That isn’t perhaps as 
clear, but it is more hopeful. If you ever write, 
doushka, — and I trust you will, — -pray, above all 
things, let your books be hopeful. Do not write so 
that when one reads one will say, ^ Ah, well, in all 
probability I too will be dragged down into just such 
a quagmire. What is the use of struggling ?’ No, 
make your stories, even those that may be sad, so 
full of hope that one, having read them, will leap 
up, saying, ^ No matter if things are sad, there is 
brightness in all. I see no reason why I should not 
try to be happy like Carlo, or Bettina,’ or one of the 
charming people you are sure to write of. There, that 
is a neat little sermon, and you furnished the text.” 
b 2* 


18 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

Ilva knit her brows, but was not exactly offended. 

I do not quite understand why you do not like my 
sentence, but I hope you do not think it wicked. I 
only meant it to be true. It seems to me it is like 
that. I will do as you say, however : I will tear 
it up.’^ She stripped the sheet of paper, as she 
spoke, into several little ribbons, and then tore these 
across once or twice. “ There,^^ she ended, slipping 
them into his hand with a gesture which was both 
impulsive and imperious. Keep it to remind you 
that I promise to do as you say.” 

Indeed I will,” said the young Eussian, heartily. 
He took the slender, strong little hand and kissed it 
lightly. “ You are to write only what is brave and 
hopeful,” he said, as if speaking to the long fingers 
which lay upon his palm ; and they tightened slightly 
in answer. 

Then he stooped and lifted a book from the sun- 
burnt grass. He had at first thought it a pretty 
box of some sort, for its cover was of old Dutch 
silver-work, with the Demarini crest set in opals, — 
altogether a very superb and inappropriate volume 
to share the siesta of a little girl who wore a rumpled 
brown holland frock and lay on her back in the sun- 
shine as regardlessly placid as the lizard that basked 
near by. He held it on his left hand and opened it. 
It was a volume of Ariosto’s unabridged poems. 

'' And have you read this, doushka?” he asked, 
beginning to feel more puzzled and amused and a 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


19 


little horrified. She leaned over and gravely turned 
one or two leaves with an air of proprietorship. 

“Is it not lovely she said. “Yes, I have just 
begun it to-day. I was trying to make some poetry 
myself when you came.’^ 

“ And could you not said Nadrovine, still 
smiling rather dubiously. 

“No; I do not think I have that talent,” she re- 
plied, with some sadness. “ The rhymes are like so 
many gnats buz-buz-buzzing, when I only want to 
fix my ideas. Do you ever write poetry, signor ?” 

Nadrovine said no, that ha did not. Suddenly he 
put out his hand and drew her down beside him 
again. “No, I do not write poetry,” he repeated. 
“ But I can tell charming fairy-tales. Do you care 
for fairy-tales ?” 

“ Oh ! so much !” exclaimed II va. 

“Then,” said Nadrovine, “I will tell you one. 
Here it is. There was once a little princess ” 

“ Do not make it commonplace,” interrupted Ilva, 
with one of her frowns. “I wish you had said a 
little peasant-girl; all fairy-tales have princesses. 
But no matter.” 

Nadrovine laughed, showing teeth which were 
splendidly white and regular. “ My story will dis- 
appoint you, I fear,” he said, in reply to these rapid 
interpellations ; “ but, since my heroine was a princess 
at first, she must remain one now. She had not a 
very commonplace name, at all events : they called 


20 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


her Liott. She also had the most uncommonplace 
dwelling conceivable, for she lived in a palace of ice, 
which was far more beautiful than anything which 
you or I ever saw. She had the most charming 
dresses and jewels, and every toy that one can im- 
agine, but her chief delight was in her gardens. 
There grew thousands of flowers, from great red 
roses like these overhead, to the little wild flowers 
that all children love.’’ 

Ah, yes, that is very natural,” put in the Sig- 
norina Demarini. “ I like those much better than 
any others myself.” 

And I,” said Nadrovine, seriously. One day, 
then. Princess Liott was in her garden, which was 
separated from the fields beyond by a high hedge, 
and, peeping through the hedge, she saw the most 
gorgeous blossoms in all the world. She had never 
dreamed of such beautiful flowers, not even when 
she lay awake at night and pressed her fingers on 
her eyelids to see the splendid lilac and gold and 
green wreaths that grew and faded and paled and 
sparkled again.” 

‘^Yes, are they not beautiful?” asked Ilva, be- 
coming absorbed in this not at all commonplace 
fairy-tale. You have so many touches of nature : 
that is what makes your books famous, I suppose.” 

Nadrovine went on without replying : 

“ The flowers that Princess Liott saw were much 
more lovely, and she would have squeezed through 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


21 


the hedge after them, had not the governess caught 
her arm. princess,’ said she, ^ do not touch 

those flowers : they are poisonous, in spite of their 
beautiful colors, and will forever stain your little 
white hands.’ But the princess was haughty and 
would not be controlled. She broke from her gov- 
erness into the lovely field, and gathered the jewel- 
like blossoms right and left, until she was tired with 
stooping ; then she ran back in triumph to show her 
governess how silly her warning had been ; but later, 
when her governess took the great nosegay from 
Liott’s hands, they were all seamed and blackened, 
as though they had been burned, and not only that, 
but the fumes had risen from the red and yellow 
bells and had blackened poor Princess Liott’s fair 
skin and dimmed her lovely eyes.” 

Was she never pretty again ?” said Ilva, slowly. 

She was never quite white again,” said Nadro- 
vine; ^^and she always sat with her hands folded 
palms downward in her lap : so I suppose the ugly 
stains and seams never went quite away.” 

/^That is a very sad story,” said Ilva, still 
slowly. 

^^Doushka,” said Nadrovine, books are some- 
times more . poisonous than flowers. You see, my 
story is commonplace after all : it has a moral.” 

She kept her bright, direct glance on him, still 
turning slowly the leaves of the book which rested 
on his knee. 


22 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


“ Is this a bad book she said, at last, in a low 
voice. 

It is not good for you to read, little one.” 

She suddenly lifted it from his knee. He thought 
she was going to walk proudly off with her rightful 
property, but instead she turned with a beautiful, 
impulsive straightening of both arms towards him. 

Take it,” she said. “ I give it to you. Keep 
it, and remember that I have promised you.” 

Kadrovine was silent a moment, and then drew 
the child to him. 

This is far too valuable a book for you to give 
away unpermitted,” he said, gently; ‘‘but your 
promise, which is many times more valuable, I take 
and keep.” 

She frowned a little, and the gold lights grew in 
her dark eyes. 

“ I bid you take it,” she said. “ It is mine : no 
one else has a right to it : my grandmother left it to 
me in her will when I was — oh ! a mere speck — a 
baby. Here ; that is my name. You see ? Take it.” 

Nadrovine was extremely touched. 

“Doushka,” he said, and as he spoke he put a 
shapely brown hand on her blowing hair, “ I cannot 
take your beautiful book for my very own, but I 
will keep it gladly until you wish for it again.” 

She said nothing in answer, and, stooping towards 
her, he saw that her eyes were full of tears. 

“You are very good to me,” she said, in a stifled 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 23 

voice. ‘‘You seem to care. Why do you? No 
one else does. I might read every book in the house 
if I chose. Nathali is watched over and cared for. 
She is so beautiful: Have you seen her? But I — 
I am ugly 

And she turned and rushed away from him down 
the rough, irregular steps, sobbing as she went, and 
leaving a very perplexed and astounded young Rus- 
sian novelist behind her. 

She did not see him again until she was seventeen. 

III. 

This little episode with Nadrovine had a distinct 
effect upon the girPs character. There were many 
things every day that she denied herself, in thinking 
that he would not have approved them. She seemed 
to herself to have become the Princess Liott of his 
little allegory, and was very bent on keeping her 
hands clean at least, since they could not be small 
and white like Nathalies. She no longer drove the 
dusty toads from under the big aloes, into the little 
pool on the east terrace. She tried not to say inso- 
lent things to the very exasperating Herbert. She 
bore like a Stoic such lies as Nathali saw fit to tell 
of her from time to time, and she abandoned her 
alterations in the profiles of the Roman emperors, in 
order that she might give her undivided attention to 
the reproduction of Nadrovine^s sharply-cut features. 
He became to her a sort of embodied conscience, and 


24 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


she fell into one of those pure and romantic idola- 
tries of which only an innocent girl is capable. She 
heard of him very often. Sometimes her father and 
mother would discuss his career’ and personality. 
Sometimes the guests at the villa would do so. 
Sometimes she would herself see articles in the dif- 
ferent papers concerning him. He was founder of 
a new school, they said, one which did not pluck 
the wings from ideals and leave them to crawl, but 
which pointed out a possible butterfly in every ugly, 
realistic grub which nibbled the flowers of rhetoric. 
The child carefully .cut out such articles and put 
them away in a little enamelled box which had once 
held bon-bons. This box had a lock and key, and 
she wore the key about her throat on a bit of ribbon. 
As his profile dominated all her sketches, so what 
she fancied to be his character was given to every 
hero in her fantastic stories. As the years went by, 
however, his wraith became paler and more trans- 
parent, until, instead of coloring circumstances, as it 
were, the vivid hues of surrounding facts became 
more and more apparent through its dwindling mist. 

When Ilva was seventeen, she told herself that she 
had been ridiculously sentimental, and that this Na- 
drovine whom she had adored so long would be the 
first to smile at her for a romantic little school-girl. 
She still kept the newspaper cuttings which spoke of 
him, however, but she took the key from about her 
neck and put it in her writing-desk. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


25 


She often thought of the hour when she and Na- 
drovine would meet again, and whether he had kept 
the silver book, as he had promised, all these years. 
She wondered, in fact, if he remembered her. 

One day the countess said, as they sat together on 
the terrace late in the afternoon, — 

^^By the way, Ilva, Nadrovine, the great writer, 
comes here this evening to diue. Your father brings 
him. It is only a family dinner; and, as there is 
such an awkward number, I am going to permit you 
to dine with us.^^ . 

I shall like it very much. You are very kind, 
mamma,^^ said the girl. Her heart beat a good deal, 
and she felt that the color had risen to her cheeks. 
It was so strange to think that she was to see him 
after all these years, and so very pleasant to think 
how different he would find her, in appearance at 
least, from what siie had been at their last interview. 

She was very careful with her toilet that evening, 
plaiting and replaiting, herself, the luxurious swaths 
of her hair, until they were as lustrous as so many 
twisted flames, pinning the knot of tea-roses which 
she was to wear in five different places on her cor- 
sage, and stopping at the last moment while her 
maid sewed new rosettes on a pair of bronze shoes 
which she particularly fancied. 

Ah,’’ said Nadrovine to himself, when she entered 
the room, ^^she is as lovely as I thought she would 
be.” 


B 


3 


26 the witness of the sun. 

Her childishly simple gown of white gauze was 
cut squarely from her .long and supple throat, and 
fawn-colored gloves came up nearly to the puffed 
sleeves which surmounted her graceful shoulders 
like some airy order of epaulets. There was a 
gold-colored ribbon about her waist, and a knot of 
it among the lace at her breast. The tea-roses 
were mingled with the lace and ribbon. 

As for Nadrovine, he had not changed in the least. 
He was now twenty-nine, but his light-brown curls 
were as free from any tinge of gray as they had been 
seven years ago, and he carried himself with as virile 
a grace. When he smiled on speaking to her for the 
first time, she saw that his teeth were as brilliantly 
regular as ever and his mouth as handsome. He had 
the thin curled lips which, when not cruel, are so 
beautiful. Ilva thought of numberless things which 
she would like to say to him. She wondered, should 
they chance to be thrown together for a few moments, 
what he would first say to her. After dinner they 
went out on the terrace and had cigarettes and coffee 
and liqueurs. There was much soft moonlight 
through a silyer fleece of clouds. It made trans- 
parent the tender leaves of a young grape-vine 
near which the girl sat, and threw delicate moving 
shadows over her white gown and arms. She had 
wound some thin white stuff about her head and 
shoulders, and the golden ribbons at her waist and 
bosom reminded him of stray sunbeams. Some peo- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 27 

pie bad just called informally, and he came and sat 
down in a great bamboo chair near her, while they 
were making their greetings. 

You have never asked for the silver book,’^ was 
what he said to her ; and she replied, not lightly as 
she had meant to, but very seriously, — 

And I never will.^^ 

What ! you will never read Ariosto ?” said 
Nadrovine, smiling. I find him a charming poet.” 

This was not quite what Ilva had expected. She 
returned his smile with a rather haughty look. 

I dare say I should find him charming also,” 
she replied, after perhaps a second’s pause. It is 
merely a whim.” 

So, then, you have whims, like any other mortal, 
signorina?” said Nadrovine, still smiling. I fan- 
cied that you were going to develop into a start- 
lingly original young lady, from the glimpse I had 
of your childhood. I have whims myself. They 
are very disagreeable. Take my advice, and give 
them to me to keep with the silver book.” 

Ilva thought him impertinent. She was bitterly 
disappointed. Her pretty, childish breast swelled 
angrily under its knot of gold ribbons. Is any- 
thing so annoying to a young girl as to be taken 
for exactly the age that she is? She was just seven- 
teen, and he treated her as he would have done any 
other little girl of seventeen. She began to dislike 
him. She began to find disagreeable the lines of 


28 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN, 


that sharp-cut profile which she had so often drawn 
on slate and paper and even on the stiff hem of her 
white petticoats. He was apparently absorbed in 
his own thoughts during the silence which followed. 
He leaned his head back against the olive-wood 
trellis that supported the grape-vine, and allowed 
the smoke of his cigarette to escape through his .. 
handsome nostrils. He was, in fact, thinking of 
her, — gentle and tender thoughts, such as some men 
will give young girls into whose* pure minds they 
see as through a crystal opening. He thought her 
renunciation of Ariosto as lovely as it was childish, 
and, seeing that she was offended, regretted having 
teased her. He turned suddenly and threw away 
his cigarette. 

Doushka,’’ he said, — how well she remembered 
the tone of his voice as he pronounced the odd little 
Russian word ! — “ see, do not be angry with me. It 
was only in jest that I spoke. It is very good and ; 
lovely of you to have kept your promise all these ^ 
years. I am going to ask you to let me send you j 
back your silver book with marks at those passages I 
which I think you would enjoy. Will you?” ] 

The feeling of personal dislike for him melted ] 
away with these words, but the annoyance at being j 
addressed as though she were a child increased, if ! 
possible. 

You are very good,” she said, a trifle stiffly. 

‘^Ah, you said that to me once before,” replied | 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 29 

Kadrovine, with the smile which she, was beginning 
to watch for, but so differently. There were tears 
in your voice as well as in your eyes then. What 
a strange little creature you were !” he went on, 
speaking more to himself than to her. have 

often regretted that I did not see more of you as a 
child.^^ 

Perhaps you would have had more regrets the 
more you saw of me,^^ said the girl, slowly. I be- 
lieve that I was a very disagreeable child.” 

Nadrovine made a light gesture of dissent. Oh, 
we should have understood each other,” he said, 
easily. 

^^Do you think so?” asked II va. She held a 
little fan of amber with gold ribbons between her 
eyes and the moonlit glare of the sea. He thought 
that the moonlight shining through it reproduced the 
tint of her hair exactly. She could not make out his 
expression, for the background of sparkling water. 
Hadrovine caught the nettled tone in her voice. 

Why ? Do you think so ?” he said, gently. 

Oh ! I ? How can I tell ?” she answered, ar- 
ranging her roses. ‘^It is your gift to guess at 
situations. You are famous for it. If you say so, 
yes, I suppose we should have understood each other, 
— yes, assuredly.” 

You mean that we do not understand each other 
now,” said Nadrovine. She replied by another ques- 
tion. 


3 * 


30 the witness of the sun. 

Do you think we do ?” she said ; but, before he 
could answer, the countess approached with some 
guests who wished to meet Nadrovine, and Ilva 
spoke no more alone with him that evening. 

She went to her room feeling a good deal as 
though she had lifted a charming flower to her face 
and the bee within had stung her. She had thought 
so often of this meeting, had listened so many times 
to the earnest, beautiful things he would probably 
say to her. She had even committed one of her 
prettiest poems to memory in order that she might 
repeat it to him when he inquired about her writings. 
She remembered with a fresh feeling of irritated dis- 
appointment that he had not asked so much as one 
question concerning them. Altogether, it had been a 
very flat and uneventful conversation. He had only 
said what any other man might have said under the 
circumstances, and she, on her side, had only been 
rather rude, she was afraid. 

ISTathali Zanova came over the next morning full 
of the celebrated Russian’s advent in the neighbor- 
hood. 

^^And you actually sat at the same table with 
him !” said she. Dio mio ! that I had been in- 
spired to ask myself to dine yesterday ! What did 
he talk of? They say he is as beautiful as a Greek 
god. Is he ?” 

^^Some Greek gods are very ugly; don’t you 
think so?” said Ilva, chillily. “ There is one in the 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 31 

Vatican with a broken nose who is quite hideous. 
Signor Nadrovine is not at all like him. I don’t 
think he is like any of them.” 

Ebbene, I should have said like one’s dream of 
a Greek god,” cried Nathali. ^‘You dear, literal 
girl !” She took Ilva about the waist and attempted 
to kiss her. 

“ Please do not, Nathali,” said the girl. “ You 
know I do not like to be kissed.” 

^^Yes, by me,” said Nathali, good-humoredly; 
“ and yet I have very pretty .lips. Ebbene, wait 
until you have a lover.” 

I shall never kiss any man but my husband,” 
Ilva replied, with loftiness. 

Oh-h ! so there is going to be a husband, then, 
after all,” said Signorina Zanova, smiling her large- 
toothed but still pretty smile. A month ago you 
were never going to marry.” 

One can never tell,” answered Ilva, calmly, not- 
withstanding, however, she blushed rather warmly. 
Nathali was almost as exasperating on occasions as 
the good Herbert. She was a very large-limbed 
woman, not so tall as Ilva, with a pale, well-cut, 
rather voluptuous mouth, which was generally open 
in a perpetual air of wonder, eyes which were too 
wide apart, and coarse, beautifully brown hair, cut 
abundantly above her thick eyebrows. Her figure, 
although well shaped, was too compact to be graceful. 
One always felt that it must be with a sense of duty 


32 the witness of the sun. 

accomplished that the Signorina Zanova unbuttoned 
her corsage at night. She was a woman who became 
herself extremely, if one may be allowed a certain 
liberty of expression, — that is, her mind harmonized 
entirely with her physique. Had she been allowed 
to select a body to contain her soul, one felt quite 
certain that her present shape would have been her 
choice. Her big limbs ended in the tiny hands and 
feet which are the ideal of beauty with so many 
women and which men generally fail to admire. 
As a little girl, Nathali had possessed the arms of 
a well-stuffed chair and the legs of a piano. As a 
young lady, voluminous sleeves and draperies only 
permitted one to observe hands which corresponded 
to the little tassels which usually finish off chair- 
arms and feet not much larger than the casters in 
which piano-legs always terminate. She was nine- 
teen, and had been in society for a year, and was 
always consciously or unconsciously reminding Ilva 
of her less fortunate position. She would rush over 
to the Villa Demarini, on the day after a ball, with 
handfuls of gay ribbons which she had received in 
the cotillon and which she ostensibly brought for the 
collars of Ilva’s dogs. Ilva, for her part, was quite 
•sure that Nathali really brought them to show what 
a success she had had at the ball. Nathali\s purse 
was as well filled as her bodice, which may perhaps 
somewhat account for the brilliancy of her social 
career, and she had an American friend, a woman 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


33 


even larger and more exuberant of limb than her- 
self, who taught her to emulate the little Joseph in 
apparel and to use American slang. This being 
sometimes translated into Italian was a very astound- 
ing thing to hear. 

The difference in the feelings of the two girls for 
each other may perhaps be concisely explained by 
saying that the ways of Ilva wearied Nathali, while 
Nathali herself wearied Ilva. She would often escape, 
when she saw the Zanova coi^^ approaching, and run 
far out into the great orang^ardens that flanked the 
house. Sometimes it wo^§“ be her fate to be inter- 
cepted in her flight. ']^^^<^as one of those days ; 
and, to complete matt^^if^iali insisted upon talk- 
ing of Nadrovine. ^ 

My dearest child,^^ she now proceeded to remark, 
do you know they say that, although he is so dis- 
tinguished, he is a perfect Don Juan 

I forbid you to say any more,^^ interrupted Ilva, 
in a tensely quiet voice. Her eyes had those golden 
lights which flash in the eyes of some angry dogs, 
and which with her always meant violent emotion of 
some sort. She went and threw wide the Venetian 
blinds of one of her windows. Is it that Mees 
Sherlow who has taught you such conversation?’^ 
she continued, leaning against the windovv, and not 
regarding Nathali, whose mouth was more open than 
usual. If it is so, do not think that I will listen 
to it. Such talk is abominable, disgusting, odious 


34 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


to me. You used not to say such things, Nathali. 
It is like the fairy-tale where the toads fell out of 
the girFs mouth. You might as well come and 
pour a handful of mud into my lap : I would thank 
you quite as much.’^ 

Nathali turned quite pale. 

You are horridly rude,’^ she said. She took off 
her heavy rings and tossed them in her two hands 
with an attempt at carelessness. There is nothing 
so odious as a prude, she remarked, after a while. 

Except a woman who repeats unclean stories and 
anecdotes,’^ replied Ilva, coolly. 

I do not repeat unclean anecdotes,’^ said Nathali, 
sullenly. She rose and put on her rings again, and 
took up her sunshade, which bristled with orange- 
and cherry-colored ribbons. It is nothing to say 
that a man is a Don Juan. All men sow their wild 
oats nowadays. If Nadrovine were not a 

Do not dare to say it again cried Ilva, spring- 
ing to her feet. She seized the back of a chair 
which stood between them and held it tightly with 
both hands. ‘^If I am rude,” she said, looking 
steadily at her friend, it is you who make me 
so.” 

Oh, it is not of the slightest consequence,” said 
Signorina Zanova, who was now scarlet as the bows 
on her sunshade, with unmitigated rage. If I had 
known you were already enamoured of the man, I 
would have said nothing to you. Addio^ cara mia ; 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 35 

a better temper to you soon, and a sunny wedding- 
day.” 

She flourished her parcel with the air of one who 
ofiers the last insult to an already infuriated foe, and 
left the room. 

As a matter of fact, Nadrovine was not in the 
least a Don Juan. It was no especial question of- 
morality with him, however. He was a rather cold, 
excessively refined man, who found no amusement 
in liaisons of any kind. He would have been equally 
amused and touched by Ilva’s warm defence of him. 
Of this young girl he was especially fond. Such 
natures are more capable of comprehending and re- 
turning the affection of children than those which 
are more sensual ; and Ilva was in truth a child as 
yet. She sat down, after Signorina Zanova had de- 
parted, at the window which she had opened, and 
began to go over the years since the day upon which 
she had first met Nadrovine. She had not realized 
until a few moments ago how much he had again 
become to her, in spite of their uncongenial conver- 
sation. 

She thrust back angrily the idea which Nathali 
had forced upon her. It gave her the same feeling 
that possessed her when she found that her maid had 
tossed a nosegay into the slop-bowl. It was a very 
blossom-like sentiment which she had always cher- 
ished for Nadrovine, and she felt as though her 
friend had dropped it into a figurative slop-bowl. 


36 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


IV. 

It was only three days afterwards that Ilva saw 
Nadrovine again. The countess had driven into the 
village early in the afternoon to do some shopping, 
and the good Herbert was indulging in her usual 
four-o’clock siesta, shut into her own room. Tha- 
house was very dark and cool and empty, and the 
day outside very vivid and hot and crowded with 
sweet sights and noises and perfumes, — the sounds of 
birds and of the sea, the voices of children wrangling 
good-humoredly, the fragrance of sunburnt fruit. On 
the eastern terrace the grass was blue with fallen figs, 
and the orioles made golden flashes among the 
pomegranates in the tree just outside the girl’s win- 
dow. She could see the clustering blossoms among - 
the roots of the orange-trees, and the twinkle of the 
sunlight on the wings of the bees humming over 
them. All about and above and beneath her were 
brilliant winged things, that dipped and glanced and j 
alighted and took flight again, and there were some • 
variegated butterflies that looked like living jewels. 
The day seemed holding out its arms to her. She ; 
took a big white sunshade whose rose-colored lining 
appeared to blush for its unfashionable proportions, ; 
and, lifting a book at random, went out into the : 
fragrant, vibrating glare, under the pomegranate- ^ 
tree, over the fig-strewn grass, up the rough stone 
steps that led to the ruined temple on the olive- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 37 

crowned hill-top, and so into the temple itself. She 
threw herself on the sun-bleached grass and lay down 
upon it, leaning her head, with its cushion of burn- 
ished hair, against the old marble seat. 

Everything gleamed tremulously through the 
rising heat. The tall wild flowers and weeds 
seemed shuddering against the violent blue of the 
sky beyond. One of the slender Corinthian columns 
which had remained standing, had wavy outlines, as 
of a white, ever-ascending flame. The vast grass- 
fields below rippled like another sea. So intensely 
still was it, save for the sounds of leaf and bird and 
waves, that she could hear distinctly the soft drop- 
ping of the ripe figs upon the thick turf and a bird 
whetting its beak on a fallen marble capital near by. 
She was very warm, and yet a purring wind crept 
over her every now and then and kept the heat from 
growing oppressive. She had a great flare of fire- 
colored azaleas at her belt, and an intoxicated sleepy 
bee had fallen into one of the gorgeous chalices and 
droned and struggled intermittently with a palpable 
affectation of energy. One of the orioles, which 
were yet very tame, poised on delicate, whirring 
wings and tore at the red petals mischievously. 

She did not even open the book that she had 
brought with her, and she had been thinking of Na- 
drovine for some moments, when he spoke to her. 
He had been watching her just as he had done 
seven years ago, and, as he had also done on that 
4 


38 the witness of the sun. 

occasion, had mistaken her shut-eyed quiet for sleep. 

She rose to her feet with a supple, unhurried grace • 
which did not escape him, and put up her hand to 
her hair, — the instinctive gesture of a woman whose 
hair-pins are forsaking her. 

wish you had been soliloquizing this time j 
also,’^ he said, with a smile, as he stooped to lift ^ 
her shawl and book from the grass ; and then Ilva 
was very glad that her umbrella was lined with 
pink, for she felt herself redden a little. 

And I am thankful that I was not,^^ she answered, 
candidly. I am not much wiser than I was seven 
years ago, and I might have uttered just some such 
nonsense.” 

“ I assured you then that I did not think it non- 
sense,” said Nadrovine, gravely. I do not think 
so now ; and I remember it perfectly, word for word. 
You were wondering how it would feel if one were 
a giantess and had a giant lover to whom one could 
say ” 

Pray don’t repeat it,” exclaimed Ilva, with an 
imperious gesture. 

But if I think it charming ?” said Nadrovine. 

That is impossible,” she said, smiling all at once. 
She had one of those full, lissome mouths which 
adapt themselves exquisitely to a smile. Her whole 
face changed with it as water under a float of sun- 
light. The contour became more childish, and yet 
somehow her expression was more that of a woman. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 39 

She sat down suddenly on the marble seat and drew 
aside her white skirt to make room for him. 

^^Let us talk/’ she said, impulsively. ^‘1 have 
some things to say to you.” 

It would take many hours to say all that I wish 
to say to you,” replied Nadrovine, seriously. In 
the first place, do you still write ?” 

He had taken his place by her, sitting sidewise, 
with one elbow resting on the back of the bench 
and his hand supporting his uncovered head. With 
the other hand he clinked some pebbles together, as 
she remembered him to have done during that 
memorable interview. He had thrown his hat on 
the ground, but it had left a red mark across his 
forehead. His hair clung damply to his temples. 
Signorina Zanova’s remark about the Greek god came 
back to her. It was the face of a Greek, certainly. 
Ilva had a cynical disbelief in deities. She liked to 
look at him, but, being afraid of seeming to stare, 
turned her eyes presently to the azaleas in her belt. 

^^Oh, yes, I write, sometimes,” she said, rather 
vaguely. 

^^Only sometimes?” asked Nadrovine. ^‘Some- 
times is the arch-enemy of success ; and I remember 
you very ambitious.” 

She lifted her eyes again to his face, and his met 
them. 

“ Perhaps I am ambitious now,” she said, with a 
half smile. 


40 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


am rather inclined to think it is not ^per- 
haps/ ” replied Nadrovine. He was reflecting upon 
the loveliness of that direct, gentle gaze. Most of 
the young girls of his acquaintance dropped their 
eyes with a puppet-like certainty under an at all 
prolonged look, while others returned such glances 
too boldly. 

She charmed him very much. He was almost 
afraid to allow the conversation to take a serious 
tone, for fear she would disappoint him. She was 
looking away again now. A little white butterfly 
had alighted on the laces above her breast, and rose 
and fell with her soft breathing, as daintily as a bird 
upon a wave. 

If you have a sweetheart, signorina, be sure that 
he is thinking of you,” said Nadrovine, suddenly. 

She turned her eyes from the sea to him with a 
rather startled look. 

Why do you say that ?” she asked. 

Because a white butterfly has alighted upon your 
dress. It is a sure sign.” 

She glanced down, and saw the pretty thing open- 
ing and shutting its silvery wings with all the 
coquetry of a conscious beauty manipulating her 
fan. She breathed more gently than ever, in order 
not to disturb it. 

Is that a Eussian superstition ?” she said, after a 
moment. 

I really do not know,” Nadrovine replied. But 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 41 

I seem to have heard it all my life, — and the one 
about a bird flying into a room/’ 

What is that ?” said Ilva. 

They say that it is a forewarning of death or of 
a great sorrow. . Myself, I am not superstitious. 
One night in Russia I heard a tapping at my window, 
and, like the melancholy young man in Poe’s romance, 
opened it. There was nothing so startling as a raven 
outside, however, — only a little brown bird who had 
been attracted by the light. I let him in, and, after 
flying distractedly about, he made himself quite com- 
fortable on the back of a tall chair. Then three 
more rapped and gained admittance, and all four 
spent the night with me. In the morning I fed them 
and set them free. But they seemed only to bring 
me good luck. I got many things that I wanted 
soon afterwards.” 

nightingale flew into my room once,” said 
Ilva. ‘^He was so frightened, though, poor little 
soul, that he killed himself by beating his head 
against the wall. It made me very sad at first; 
but I reflected that he might have been put into 
pasta by some peasant, and so was somewhat com- 
forted.” 

^^You call him poor little soul,” Yadrovine ob- 
served, smiling. I see that we share a belief.” 

Oh, there must be birds in heaven !” the girl ex- 
claimed, quickly. 

And why not ?” said Nadrovine. “ One knows 
4 * 


42 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


there are horses, — made of fire, but still horses. It 
seems to me that birds have quite as much right to 
be there.’^ 

Oh, much more,” said Ilva, gravely. I am sure 
that there must be many of them.” 

‘^One might -say that the angels were a species of 
fowl,” continued Nadrovine, gravely. In all the ^ 
pictures they have great wings covered with feathers.” 

Ilva looked at him, still seriously, but her eyes 
laughed under their broad lids. 

I have always thought they must be so uncom- j 
fortable,” she said. One would have always to | 
be considering them, like a court-train or a travel- j 
ling-case.” ; 

What a prosaic simile !” cried Nadrovine, and I 
then they both laughed. It is as impossible for two ( 
people who have laughed together to remain ceremo- / 
nious in manner, as for a person to maintain strict | 
dignity during a first lesson on the violin. { 

The butterfly was alarmed into flight by the gay | 
sound, but they moved nearer each other. J 

‘‘I begin to recognize the little girl I used to ! 
know,” said Nadrovine. ‘^When I first saw you 
the other night I thought you had become very stiff 
and conventional and difficult. You were rather i 
severe with me also.” | 


Was I ?” said Ilva. Well ” She paused, 

and looked at him, laughing somewhat. I, too, 
thought you very disagreeable,” she said. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


43 


And I tried to be so charming/^ 

That was the reason, doubtless. If one wishes 
to be odious, one has only to try to be charming.” 

And does your' rule work both ways, signorina ? 
If so, I shall begin to behave accordingly.” 

She looked at him again, and again laughed. 

I like you very well as you are,” she told him. 

But you do not know me as I am,” persisted 
Nadrovine : you only know me as I seem. If 
you are as cynical as you used to be, I shall feel a 
dread of your knowing me better.” 

As I used to be ?” 

‘^Yes, when you wrote that terrible sentence, 
^ Married love is like champagne with’ ” 

Do not !” cried Ilva. It is as bad to quote 
one’s sayings to one, as to tell one that you once 
heard Patti or Scalchi sing the song that one has 
just sung.” 

But tell me, then, signorina, do you still believe 
that ?” 

I have no experience,” said the girl, demurely. 

Some day when I am famous ” 

Ah, then you do intend to be famous ?” 

^^If I can. Now, there you have experience. 
Tell me, is it pleasant to be famous ?” 

Nadrovine changed his position before replying. 
He leaned forward, and, resting his elbows on his 
knees, fitted a blade of grass between his joined 
thumbs. 


44 the witness of the sun. 

“I will tell you what fame reminds me of, 
doushka,” he said, a little absently. “ There is a 
picture by Van Dyck of Charles V. in the Uffizi 
in your Florence, that is my idea of fame. The 
king is in full armor, on horseback, and an eagle 
holds a wreath of laurel over his head. The eagle 
seems to me to be an admirable type of fame. 
When he’ finally consents to crown one with the 
laurel, he at the same time gives one a sharp dig 
with his mighty beak.’^ 

thought you had everything in the world,” 
said the girl, impulsively. Nadrovine lifted his 
thumbs, with the carefully-arranged blade of grass, 
to his lips, and blew a shrill little blast. 

“ That reminds me so of my boyhood,” he said, 
before directly replying to her. I had an old 
nurse who used to make me those whistles by the 
hour. She predicted, by the way, . that I should 
have nothing in the world that I wanted.” 

But you have fame, success, renown ?” said Ilva. 

“ Only a little of each, doushka.” He called her 
by the uncouth term of endearment absolutely with- 
out thinking. She seemed as much a child to him 
as she had done seven years ago in her brown hol- 
land frock and flowing mane. But she was not as 
much a child : she was like a rose-branch on which 
some flowers are in full bloom and others yet in the 
bud. It remained for him to discover this, however. 

“ Only a very little of each,” he repeated. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 45 

she said, with some impatience, ^^how 
can that be? You are known in many countries? 
Your books are translated into many tongues? 
You are honored and f^ted wherever you choose to 
appear ?” 

Nadrovine threw away the grass-blade and turned 
towards her, again running his hand deep into his 
curls and so leaning upon it. 

^^Does it not occur to you, signorina,” he said, 
that if my measure of success were quite full, its 
contents would not rattle so noisily 

“ Bah !” said Ilva, with energetic rudeness, that 
is unworthy of you ! That is fallacy. Why not be 
honest and acknowledge that you are famous and 
successful ? I should like you so much better.” 

Would you?” he said, a little curiously. 

She had furled her big white parasol, and the bril- 
liant sunset light was full upon her. Her spirited 
head was tilted rather imperiously backward. One 
could see the pulses of her throat stirring the lace 
of her white gown. Her hair and eyes seemed to 
concentrate the surrounding brilliancy. 

I should, I should,” she assured him, vehemently. 
It is as false as though I were to look in my mirror 
and turn simpering away to murmur, ^ How ugly I 
am !’ ” 

Nadrovine looked at her, amused, but roused. 

So you do not make a secret of what your mirror 
tells you ?” said he. 


46 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. • 


Dio ! DO ! Why should I ? I have eyes, and 
I have an excellent appreciation. It is absurd to 
imagine that I do not know I am handsome. There 
is this about it only. I do not admire myself. I 
am too slight, too pale. I lik-e magnificent women, 
with brilliant coloring like an oil-painting. I am 
like a pastel. But because I and some others do 
not admire myself, is no reason why I should deny 
that I am handsome.^^ 

She paused, still looking at him, with her straight, 
dark brows drawn into a slight frown. 

Nadrovine forgot for a moment that she was only 
a little girl of seventeen, she looked so thoroughly 
the woman, with her superb pose and air of dis- 
pleased royalty. 

You have expressed it for me admirably, signo- 
rina,’^ he said, at last. I do not admire myself.” 

Be honest, then, and confess that others admire 
you.” 

Do you ?” he said, smiling, but with quickness. 

‘^Is not that a little impertinent?” she replied, 
but also smiling. 

‘^Perhaps. But I was going to say that if you 
admire me I will confess myself a success.” 

That is even more unworthy of you than several 
other remarks you have made this afternoon. I did 
not think that you would attempt flattery.” She 
turned her head away, and he thought that she was 
angry. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


47 


I am sorry if you think I meant to flatter you,” 
he said, after a slight pause. Are you very much 
vexed with me ?” 

No, not vexed,” she said, in a low voice. 

What then ? Disgusted ?” 

No, no,” she said, hastily. Then, with a little 
movement towards her sunshade, which lay on the 
seat beside her, Is it not getting rather late ? Had 
we not better go in ?” 

A sudden thought struck Nad ro vine. 

Doushka,” he said, gently, will you look at 
me ?” 

I would rather, that is, of course,” she replied, 
turning hurriedly. It was as he had thought. Great 
tears stood in her eyes. Nadrovine felt a strange 
stirring in his breast. He let slip all his chill deli- 
cacy of manner, while the blood sprang into his face. 

I beg you to forgive me. I beg you to forgive 
me,” he said, unsteadily. I forgot for a moment 
that I was not talking to a woman of the world, who 
would know how to accept such an absurd speech for 
its worth.” 

Had he wished this time to utter the most insidious 
piece of flattery in his power, he could not have 
reached the desired result more completely. To be 
mistaken for a woman of the world is as delightful 
to a young girl as for an older woman to be likened 
to a child. Her beautiful, luminous eyes did not fall 
from his. 


48 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


One hates to be flattered by those whom one es- 
teems, as much as one likes to be flattered by those for 
whom one doesn’t care,” she said. When one doesn’t 
care, one laughs for thinking how silly people can be, to 
fancy one is going to believe such words, and so amuses 
one’s self But when one does care, it is different.” 

Nadrovine got to his feet and walked to the edge 
of the little bluff. He stood there a few moments, 
and then came back to her. 

I will not say all to you that I feel,” he said, 
looking down at her, lest you think me crazy. But 
will you tell me that you have forgiven me ?” 

Indeed, indeed I will,” she said, happily. I 
do not think you will ever speak so to me again.” 

“ No, I do not think it likely,” replied Nadrovine. 

Ilva was very light-hearted the rest of that even- 
ing and all the next day. She felt that Nadrovine 
comprehended her better than at first and would not 
hereafter treat her so entirely as a child. She got 
out the different notices of him and read them over. 
What a brilliant man he was, after all, and what 
exquisite romances he wrote ! She buried herself in 
a hammock and read one all day. It was as though 
he were speaking to her. She recognized one or two 
things that she had already heard him say. 

V. 

Nadrovine tried to analyze the feelings which had 
possessed him when he saw the tears in the girl’s eyes. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


49 


It escaped him, however, as a float of light escapes a 
child’s grasp, falling each time outside of the fingers 
that would seize it. He was entirely conscious of 
the light, but it danced elusively and would not re- 
main still to be analyzed. He realized only one de- 
cided emotion, the wish to see the eyes again, and — 
alas for the humanity which in his romances he so 
lauded ! — to again behold them full of tears. 

Had she been the ordinary type of a pretty, un- 
sophisticated young girl, the tears would have signi- 
fied to him mere moisture. But she was so extremely 
removed from anything ordinary that they occupied 
in his mind a place as unique as the drops which 
the fairy hung in every cowslip’s ear. How vigorous 
and spirited she had looked while pouring forth all 
that tirade against him ! She reminded him of a 
young Caryatid who was fully capable of supporting 
the temple of her convictions. He was not, as a 
rule, fanciful, but he fell to wondering how her 
lovely curves would express themselves beneath the 
folds of a Greek peplos. There should be a crown 
of red roses on her hair, some of their shaken leaves 
upon her breast, one of her long white arms sunk 
deep into thick grass. Some one said of Yernet 
smoking, ‘^Pif! paf! pouf! and he makes a man.” 

Pif I paf I pouf!” and Nadrovine made a goddess. 

Not content with that, he fashioned a . sultana, 
whose great, violet-gray eyes were like rain-washed 
amethysts. He surrounded her with Circassian girls, 
c d 5 


50 the witness of the sun. 

who fanned her with wonderful plumes that leaped 
like flames from long wands of ivory. He went 
further, and created a little Kussian, whose heavy 
hair drifting over her dress of palest blue and pink 
was as sunlight athwart the late sky outside. 

Nadrovine was as fond of dreaming with his eyes 
open as are. all who will acknowledge it. There was 
not a pretty woman of his acquaintance whom he 
had not espoused in imagination, and from whom he 
had not divorced himself the following day, or week, 
or month, as the case had been. One would have 
annoyed him in his writing-hours, one would have 
expected too much, one had coarse elbows when she 
took ofi* her long gloves at a dinner. All made him 
smile. Ilva, on the contrary, made him frown, — a 
perplexed frown. She would probably never annoy 
him in his writing-hours, as she wrote herself. Her 
elbows were as complete as flowers. Then he had 
always remembered her with a tenderness which 
now made itself remembered in turn. 

He leaped to his feet all at once and became very 
serious. He would not allow himself to think of 
her in a light way, no matter how pure. He had 
respected her as a child ; how much more should he 
respect her as a woman ! For she was a woman, he 
told himself, although the ghost of her child-self 
haunted her voice and speech and gestures, even at 
times the expression of her face. 

She had occupied always a high place in his 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


61 


thoughts. She should occupy one higher still, and 
in mounting to her new position she should close 
the door of her past dwelling behind her, as the 
chambered nautilus closes the door of its old habita- 
tion. She should become to him the type of noble 
womanhood, his Madonna Mia, whom he would 
help along the gracious ways wherein her feet were 
set. He was not thinking of love, the love that 
leads to marriage. Custom and a corrupt society had 
given him rather a gross idea of such love. He would 
never attempt to catch this Psyche by her wings, but 
would make so alluring the gardens in which he 
walked that she would alight among his flowers of 
her own free will. Theirs would be an ideal love, 
the winging of two souls to one object. He had en- 
tirely forgotten for the moment that Etiquette rules 
in DemetePs place, and that even souls are not un- 
discussed of domestics. 

Nadrovine was not rich. He was, in fact, rather 
poor, although he would inherit great wealth on his 
mother’s death. His poverty, however, was in a 
great degree the result of carelessness. He made 
and spent money with equal ease. He decided now 
that he was thoroughly capable of supporting a wife, 
should he ever look upon such a possibility as serious. 
The girl passed and repassed before him. Again 
and again he saw her tear-filled eyes. The faint per- 
fume of the azaleas at her belt disturbed him. He 
seemed again to hold her hand, — the pliable, lovely 


52 the witness of the sun. 

band, that had been so quiet, and yet so strong, 
within his. It was her latent strength, as much as 
her beauty, that he found enchanting. 

At this point in his meditations he went and leaned 
over the terrace of the villa at which he was stop- 
ping, and looked down into the sea. The night 
was very sultry, and the whisper of the water 
sounded like an invitation. Nadrovine was much 
given to nocturnal swimming. It was long past 
midnight, and no one besides himself was awake in 
the house. He went down the sea-steps, after fetch- 
ing his bath-sheet, and plunged into the tremulous 
net-work of moonlit ripples. Even this did not 
change the tenor of his thoughts. As the cool waves 
caressed and clasped him, he found himself wonder- 
ing if Ilva Demarini were a good swimmer, and, if 
such were the case, how delightful it would be to 
cleave that gleaming highway which led even to the 
portal of the rising moon, with her beside him. He 
could fancy her flower-like limbs in their drenched 
white garments, and the flow of her radiant hair 
into the flow of the sheeny water. She would turn 
her noble head every now and then and smile and 
speak to .him. If she grew tired, she should give 
herself into his arm, and he would swim with the 
other and so sustain her. 

‘^I am thinking a great deal about that young 
girl,’^ he said to himself, with some wonder, as he 
resumed his clothes and returned to his room. He 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


53 


went and lifted her silver book from a carefully- 
locked case which stood on his writing-table, and, 
seating himself, began to mark such passages as he 
considered appropriate for her to read. He was fa- 
miliar with Ariosto, but re-read many stanzas, with 
that added interest which we always take in the 
pre-imagined appreciation of another. 

When , he next called at the Villa Demarini, not 
only was he told that the countess was out, but that 
the signorina had gone for a walk. As he passed 
along the terrace on his way back, it suddenly occurred 
to him that he would rest for a few moments among 
the ruins of the little temple on the hill-top. He 
found there a palm-leaf fan, a scarf of some gauzy, 
smoke-colored material, and the second volume of 
Taine’s “ English Literature.” He lifted his brows 
a little as he took the book into his hand and began 
turning the leaves. As he glanced over the pages, 
some words scribbled in pencil caught his eye. He 
paused and read them. They were written at the end 
of the chapter on Ben Jonson, and were referred by 
an asterisk to the sentences regarding the complete 
idea which conceives of the entire animal, its color, 
the play of the light upon its skin, its form, the 
quivering of its outstretched limbs, the flash of its 
eyes, and at the same time its passion of the mo- 
ment, its excitement, its dash.” 

This is surely very strange !” II va had written. 

When on the other page Taine spoke of the ordi- 
6 * 


54 the witness of the sun. I 

nary mind trying to imagine an animal unseen of : 
actual eyes, I closed mine, and, for example, imagined ’ 
a tiger (a beast which I have never seen). I saw 
—-nay, I heard the crisp crackling of the jungle reeds 
and grass, with their russet-verdant lights filtering 
through, the water curling among the thick blades 
and stems, the flash of ragged and tawny reflection ^ 
as the great beast came padding through, the serrated 
edges of the stiff blades dragging along his sleek 
sides, the play of light among the supple wrinkles of 
his hide, the darkening and yellowing of the great 
eyes as his pupils contracted and dilated at the sight 
of a drinking form. More than this, I felt with 
him, marked the angry jerking of his taiFs tip, and i 
the sheathing and unsheathing of his bluish-brown j 
claws in the oozy soil.^’ i 

These hastily-scrawled sentences had a subtle 
charm for Nadrovine, they were so entirely differ- 
ent from the sentiments which most young ladies 
scribbled on the margins of their favorite volumes. 
Had Ilva ornamented the margin of the pages with 
many a “ Bella ! Superba ! Bellissima it would 
have seemed to him only the natural result of a 
young girFs perusing so vivid a book. This account 
of a mind-seen tiger aroused his surprise and a de- 
cided degree of admiration. He felt that his interest 
in her was a crescendo, where in all other cases it 
had been decidedly a diminuendo. Without doubt 
this little girl has a singular fascination for me,’^ he 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


55 


said to himself, impatiently. I come to call. She 
is out. I am conscious of actual disappointment. I 
take up a book she has been reading, see some 
words that she has written on the margin, and thrill 
like any school-boy over the autograph of his first 

flame. I wonder if it can be possible that I 

Ouph ! I am idiotic ! I shall go and begin work on 
that twenty-third chapter.’^ As he was setting forth 
with this laudable determination, however, there came 
to him a sound of voices laughing, voices that ap- 
proached nearer each moment, and as he stood at the 
top of the stone stair- way, II va appeared at the foot 
with a pretty child astride of her shoulders. Its 
small hands were clutched in her riotous hair, and 
her white woollen gown, full of wild flowers, was 
pinned up about her waist. She held the child’s 
dainty ankles in one shapely hand, and the other 
grasped several dolls and a straw hat with a gold- 
colored lining. As she bent her head in the effort 
of climbing the rather difficult steps, she did not 
catch sight of Nadrovine during her ascent, and the 
child was too delighted with her tawny-maned steed 
to take much notice of anything else. All the way 
up she chattered gayly : 

And you will tell me a story ? and then we will 
have chocolate? and a ball? You will invite the 
orioles, won’t yon, darling cousine ? and the lizards ? 
Do you know their tails break off — snap ! — if one 
tries to catch them that way? The olives are so 


56 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


black now; but we can pretend they are dates. 
Have you grapes, cousine? And the apricot I 
gave you ? Oh ! and the little knives and forks ?” 

‘^Yes, yes, yes, to everything,’’ replied the girl, 
merrily. But, darling, if you pull out all my hair, 
there will be no golden wire to strangle the naughty 
prince with.” 

Oh ! do I pull you, my very dearest ?” said the 
little rider, distressed ; then, all at once breaking oif. 
Look ! is that the prince ?” 

^^Who? where?” said Ilva, staring. Then she 
too stopped. ^^Is it you?” she asked, and to her 
dismay felt the warm color wrap all her face. 

Unless it is my doppelganger,” said Nadrovine, 
gravely. “And so I am the prince who is to be 
strangled with a golden wire ? What have I done so 
wicked as all that ?” 

“ You will have to ask Lotta,” said Ilva. “ I am 
only chief executioner. I am not informed about the 
offences.” 

The pretty elf on her neck swung round in order 
to look earnestly into her eyes. 

“ Oh, cousine !” exclaimed she, “ but you do know 
about the prince ! He stole Nicoletta’s sash to draw 
himself up to Viola’s window.” 

“That was indeed a crime,” said Nadrovine. 
“ But why do you particularly strangle him with a 
golden wire?” 

“ Oh, because — because — because it suits his com- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


57 


plexion/^ ended the elf, nodding triumphantly at 
him. She was as unlike Ilva as possible. Her 
dark hair, falling in dense, web-like masses about 
her small pale face, had absolutely no reflections. 
Her eyes were a clear sea-gray, with soft shadows 
above and beneath them. She was exquisitely 
formed, slender and graceful as a dragon-fly. In 
her little white pinafore were three more dolls. 

“ You must introduce me to these young ladies,” 
he said, smiling, and holding out his hand. The 
small Lotta placed one of hers sedately in the clearly- 
marked palm. 

This is the bride,” she said, indicating a damsel 
in white satin with a very fluffy coiffure and gigantic 
flesh-colored kid arms; ^‘She is to marry the 
prince.” 

Oh ! then she must be Viola,” said JSTadrovine. 

“ No, oh, no, indeed !” Lotta assured him. “ It is 
Viola whom he loves only ; it is Nicoletta whom he 
is to marry.” 

Ah !” said Nadrovine, seriously. " Then he is 
rich ?” 

No, no !” replied Lotta, vehemently : it is 
Nicoletta who is rich. Doift you see? Else, of 
course, he would marry Viola.” 

Dearest little one,” said Ilva, who taught you 
all this? It isn’t fair for Nicoletta to have all the 
money.” 

The child looked at her shrewdly. 


68 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Mamma has all the money,” she said. Aunt 
Anita has not a ” 

The apricot ! I have dropped it !” cried II va. 

Then, as the child ran after it, she turned impetu- 
ously to Nadrovine. 

‘^Do not think I have been teaching her such 
things,” she said. I keep her with me as much 
as I can, but, do what I may, she sees too much of 
the servants.” 

never think anything of you but what you 
would like to know,” said Nadrovine. She turned 
away towards the child, and wiped the fallen apricot 
on a handful of grass. 

Now we will have the feast,” she said. “ Ask 
Signor Nadrovine to gather you some olives, if you 
wish them.” 

He went to the gnarled olive-tree and returned 
with a handful of the shrivelled fruit, and in the 
mean time Ilva had set out the mimic repast on the 
old marble seat, with her lace-edged pocket-handker- 
chief for a table-cloth. The little set of red-and-gilt 
china glittered brightly in the afternoon sun. There 
were several dishes composed of a grape each, and 
Nadrovine cut the apricot, as Lotta directed, into 
three pieces. There was a lump of sugar for each of 
the dolls, and Lotta bit a corner from hers with her 
sharp little teeth, to offer Nadrovine. 

‘^Who is the charming young lady in blue?” 
he asked, as he crunched this original gift. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 59 

Who? Francesca? She is 4he Signora Marilli. 
She hates her husband dreadfully, and is in love 
with the prince, and flirts disgustingly, and ” 

Don’t you think it is time to strangle the 
prince?” asked Ilva, who was seated on the dry 
grass, braiding up the abundant brown locks of Nico- 
letta. Lotta agreed that she thought it was, and, 
having risen, shook out her pinafore and said that 
she would go to prepare the place of execution. 

Get a nice long one !” she called to Ilva over her 
shoulder. 

‘‘To what does that refer?” said Nadrovine. 
Ilva laughed, — a little confusedly, he thought. 

“Why, it is dreadful nonsense, you know,” she 
replied, “ but she is such a dear child. She means a 
strand of my hair.” 

Nadrovine regarded her absently while she drew 
out the glittering almost invisible filament from her 
masses of burnished coils. “And round his heart 
one strangling golden hair,” he said, half to himself. 

“ Ah ! Kossetti,” said Ilva, with one of her swift 
glances. “ I do not always understand Kossetti ; but 
that is^ beautiful.” 

“ It is profoundly true,” said Nadrovine. 

“ What ! you believe in the men who have died 
for love ?” said the girl, smiling. 

“ Do not you believe it ?” 

“For love of themselves and of their own way, 
yes,” she said, mischievously. “ I don’t believe in 


60 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


strangling golden hairs, though. But then one 
can^t blame Bossetti for writing rather bitterly of 
golden hair.” 

^^Why?” said Nadrovine, who had long passed 
the stage when he feared that her conversation would 
disappoint him. 

Why ? That is evident, I think. Did he not 
lament his wife to such an extent that he buried all 
his manuscripts with her, and did he not afterwards 
have the poor woman disturbed in her grave that he 
might recover them, and found that her beautiful 
golden hair had grown all about them? Perhaps 
it is not true ; but I have heard it many times.” 

Then the strangling golden hair must have been 
true in his case. He died rather young, you know.” 

Yes, but he died of insomnia.” 

‘^And don’t you think a strangling golden hair 
would be very likely to cause insomnia ?” 

I know that you are joking,” said II va, lightly. 

And it is useless to try to prove to me that men are 
faithful to their dead. They wear loyalty so many 
months, as women wear crape, and then take another 
bride, as a woman puts on colors.” 

And you think all women faithful ?” 

Not all, of course, but nearly all. Why, surely 
you will acknowledge that ?” 

Nadrovine looked down a moment into his hat, 
whichr he held between his knees. 

I will tell you what I think, signorina,” he said. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


61 


The most faithful thing, after a dog, is the woman 
whom one has ceased to love.” 

He liked to bring the blood-stain to her clear 
brow. 

^^One never ceases to love,” she said, haughtily. 

If one ceases, as you call it, one has never loved. 
One may have a passion, of course, and that may 
cease ; I do not suppose you think of such cases ?” 

“ Do you mean to say that if you loved once it 
would be forever ?” said Nadrovine. 

She remained quite still for a moment, leaning on 
her hand, with her long fingers sunk deep into her 
hair and her eyes on the sea. Presently she looked 
at him steadily. 

Yes,” she replied. 

Then said Nadrovine, in a voice not familiar to 
himself, I believe that you would.” 

The old proverb about the devil may be applied 
to Love : speak of him, and he is sure to appear. 
He is a confirmed eavesdropper, and never hears his 
name mentioned that he does not hasten to the spot. 
The things that he overhears are generally so pleasant 
that he has never been broken of this reprehensible 
habit. 

I believe that you would,” Nadrovine repeated. 

Of course ; yes. Why not ?” said Ilva, hur- 
riedly, disturbed by the new note in his voice. 

How long Lotta takes ! Lotta !” 

Nadrovine smiled, leaning his head back against 
6 


Q2 the witness of the sun. 

the marble seat. The leaf-shadows trembled across 
his throat, and it looked so sensitive in its brown 
clearness that the girl wondered the dancing flecks 
did not tickle him. 

Lotta ! Lotta she called again. 

Now, if these were the days of Pan,” said Na- 
drovine, looking down upon her, his smile gone, do 
you know what would happen ?” 

“ No,” she replied, returning his gaze as if com- 
pelled, but with an unmoved serenity. 

“ Why, there would come a little faun, a charming 
little kid faun, out of the ilexes there, and he would 
flute away on his reeds until the dainty Lotta danced 
away on his arm, out of sight, out of hearing.” 

He paused, as if expecting her to say something. 

And then ?” she asked, mechanically. 

And then,” said Nadrovine, gravely, then we 
could continue our talk together.” 

A gleam went over her face, like the reflection of 
a white bird’s wing in shadowed water. She felt a 
rebellion against his words, and yet she wished that 
she had allowed Lotta to go with her nurse that after- 
noon. She answered, however, with perfect sim- 
plicity, — 

“ You do not like children ?” 

On the contrary. But there,are some things that 
I like better.” 

«Ah? It is that?” 

“ It is that, signorina.” 


THE WITJSESS OF THE SUN. 


63 


She turned to him suddenly with all the frankness 
of a flower that wears the sky’s livery and sees no 
presumption in the act. 

“Dear Signor Nadrovine/’ she smiled, — he saw 
the light strike clearly through the opal brightness 
of her little teeth, — “ can you mean seriously that it 
gives you pleasure to talk to me ?” 

Nadrovine did not smile in reply. He was very 
grave, and his eyes met hers in a level look. 

“ It gives me the greatest pleasure that I know,” 
he answered, and their eyes held each other. 

“You are very good,” said II va, presently, in a 
low voice, possessing her eyes again. She held out 
both hands to Lotta, who had returned after ar- 
ranging elaborately the place of execution, and pre- 
tended to let the child pull her to her feet. 

“ Why, you are quite a little Amazon !” said Na- 
drovine. 

“Pouf! that is nothing,” replied Mademoiselle. 
“ I fence. I fence with Victor. I can do un, deux, 
un, deux, trois, doublez, d^doublez — -fendez-vous ! I 
fence better than many boys. They get so angry. 
They want to poke one. George — he is my other 
brother— said, ' Cr6 1 cr4 1’ to me one day when I dis- 
armed him. He danced ; he did, indeed. He looked 
very ugly. I said, ^ I pity your wife, mon chev^ and 
was so calm that he would have liked to slap me. He 
would have slapped me if he had not known that 
Victor would tell and he would get slapped himself. 


64 the witness of the sun 

You see?” She bared one pale little wrist, with its 
purplish thread-like veins, and moved it from side 
to side, exposing the flexile muscles. 

It is like steel,” she said. 

Nad ro vine examined it seriously. 

A kiss would make you a bracelet, mademoiselle,” 
he remarked, finally. And you fence with this eirs 
love-charm ?” 

She looked at him unabashed and unofiended. 

I fence well,” she assured him. 

I do not doubt it.” 

And I am learning Italian. Which do you like 
best, the way that Signorina Zanova says ^ Cecilia,’ 
or the way that Ilva says it ?” 

How does — Ilva say it ?” 

This way, as if it were sweet in her mouth, — 
‘ Sheshilia.’ I like that best. It sounds as though 
she kissed it before she let it get away.” 

Yes, I like that best,” said Nadrovine. 

Very well. And when I am grown I will fence 
with you.” 

Ah, yes, but it must be with foils.” 

Why ?” asked the child, puzzled. • 

‘^Because, mademoiselle, to fence with a young 
demoiselle without foils is to commit a great indis- 
cretion.” 

Si ?” said Lotta. She then carefully arranged 
Prince Zi-Zi’s sash, and, being weary of the conver- 
sation, announced that it was time to strangle him. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 65 

A strange game/^ observed Nadrovine, as he fol- 
lowed them to the place of execution. 

Yes, but not so strange as it seems until one 
knows, explained II va, somewhat hurriedly. As 
soon as he is strangled he is supposed to come to life 
as a good prince, and to turn monk for stealing 
Yiola\s sash.” 

It was Nicoletta’s sash, was it not ?” 

He becomes good, — a monk. We have a great 
rosary made of berries.” 

A monk !” said Nadrovine. 

His tone arrested the girl. She paused in her task 
of tying a slipknot in the strand of hair, and looked 
up at him. His eyes dwelt on the far sea-blue. She 
felt suddenly apart from him, as though the sea had 
broken through the grass and flowers between them. 

I wished to be a monk once,” he said, turning to 
her at last. 

And now ?” she said, gently. 

^^And now? Not always. Sometimes. Not 
always. It must be a peaceful life,” 

After one has. lived,” said the girl. She re- 
garded him with a serene wisdom in her large eyes. 

You do not think, then, that I would make a 
good monk, signorina ?” 

Perhaps, after you have lived,” she repeated, 
smiling. 

Is not that something like saying that one would 
make a good ghost?” 

e G* 


66 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


Perhaps.” 

If I were a ghost,” he said, suddenly, I would 
haunt you. I would be in the wind outside your 
window, and you should feel me in the mists rolling 
in from the sea. If things were not as I wished 
them, I would disturb you sadly. I would blow in 
draughts upon such cavaliers as I did not approve. 
I would give them rheumatism, influenza, — every- 
thing unlovely.” 

In that case you would make a better monk than 
ghost, signor.” She did not look in the least con- 
scious, and arranged the golden noose about Prince 
Zi-Zi’s neck with calm fingers. 

Perhaps,” he said, imitating her enigmatical tone 
of a moment before. 

VI. 

They executed the poor Zi-Zi, had another feast, 
in honor of his revival, and then prepared to descend 
to the villa. 

‘^But my story!” said Lotta, hanging back. 
‘‘You haven’t told me a story, dearest Cousine 
Ilva, and I feel so unsettled when we cease our play 
without a story. The day doesn’t end right. It is 
as if the sun went down, splash ! like a sponge into 
the sea, and put everything out. When you tell me 
a story, I come slowly, slowly to the idea of going to 
bed, and then I put myself to sleep thinking about 
it.” 

“Can you refuse that?” said Nadrovine; and 


THE WITNESS OF THE SVN. 


67 

Ilva drew the child to her and fondled her delicate 
cheek. 

Signor Nadrovine is the one whom you should 
ask,” she said. ^^He is far cleverer than I about 
telling stories. People make books out of his 
stories.” 

“ Oh ! books !” said Lotta. I have many books. 
What I like is to feel that it is coming out of your 
lips, quite, quite new, and that you don’t know any 
more than I do what the next thing will be.” 

The prettiest story that I ever heard as a little 
girl was told to me by Signor Nadrovine,” said Ilva. 

Lotta regarded Nadrovine with palpably increasing 
respect. 

If you would but tell me one, signor !” 

There is a charming one that I think of,” replied 
Nadrovine. It is called ‘ The Princess of the Silver 
Book and I do not know how it ends, any more 
than you do.” 

Why, how strange !” cried the child. Cousine 
Ilva told me a story once, and it had a name almost 
exact ” 

Ah ! the poor, poor Nicoletta !” said Ilva. We 
are trampling upon her. Poverina ! There ! there ! 
Hush ! You see she will cry, my sweet. You will 
have to console her yourself. She is such a mother- 
baby. There !” 

Lotta received her suffering daughter and tossed 
her back and forth with an air of dainty matronliness 


03 the witness of the sun. 

which reminded one of a peach-bough swinging a 
blossom. 

Poor thing ! poor thing !” she crooned. But it 
is her own fault. Nini asked her yesterday how her 
migraine was, and she said she had quite recovered, 
— that she never felt better. She should have said, 
you know, ^ Thanks, I am well, but not so well as 
yesterday.’ ” 

Ah, yes ; you must teach her that our Italian 
ideas are not to be laughed at. But she must have 
a new sash in place of the one that Zi-Zi stole away. 
Come to my room quite early to-morrow ; I have 
one that I will give her, — such a pretty, rosy thing, 
like a little strip of that pink sky there.” 

Ilva was hurrying on, delighted at having turned 
the child’s attention. 

Oh, dearest Cousine Ilva, thank you ! Nicoletta 
wishes to give you her hand. She is nearly spring- 
ing from my arms with delight. I can scarcely hold 
her. Dearest Cousine Ilva, do give her a baeigno , — 
a wee, wee one. It will so please her !” She looked 
on with the bland smile of motherhood during this 
performance, and then, as she received the cheered 
Nicoletta into her arms and settled her gauze skirts, 
she said over her shoulder to Nadrovine, — 

It was ^ The Prince of the Silver Book.’ I had 
almost forgotten to tell you.” 

For the second time that afternoon, Ilva felt her 
self blush from forehead to throat. In spite of her 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


69 


wish to appear unmoved, she hastened her steps 
towards the house. 

Nadrovine questioned the child in his grave way. 
“ That is a coincidence, is it not ?” he said. Was 
it a fairy-story? and was the prince happy in the 
end 

He was great ; that is much better than being 
happy. Cousine Ilva says that it is much better.’^ 

Would you rather be great than happy 

should have to think about that,” replied 
Lotta. I do not always wish to do what I ought. 
But then to be great ! — to have one’s way always !” 

To be great,” said Nadrovine, means never to 
have one’s way.” 

Lotta tried to subdue the incredulity that swept 
over her small face at this announcement. 

“ I tell you what I should like to be,” she said at 
last, waiving the subject. I should like to have an 
invisible cap. When people displeased me, I would 
put on my cap and serve them as I wished. Oh, the 
fun that I would have ! Oh, the droll things that 
I would do ! Oh !” She drew a long breath, and 
tucked Nicoletta under her arm in order to clasp her 
hands ecstatically. 

What sort of things ?” inquired !N*adrovine. 

*^Why, for instance, when mamma took me to 
church and the cur6 preached too long a sermon, I 
would pop on my dear little cap, and steal on tiptoe 
behind him, and pinch his nose together so that he 


70 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


would sound as though he were wheezing through a 
toy trumpet. Oh, the poor man ! how comical he 
would look ! And then when they sought me, there 
I would be as still as a mouse, and the little cap in 
my pocket. Oh, I would rather have that than the 
big gold cross on the Madeleine, and a queen’s 
crown, and diamond shoes, and live dolls ! Cousine 
Ilva’s prince wasn’t at all like that, though. He 
was of a great dignity, and always spoke in a gentle 
voice, and called people — the princess, I mean — 
^ doushka.’ That means ^ little darling,’ or ‘ dear 
little one.’ He was the most charming creature. 
His eyes were of light, and his hair of sunbeams, 
and he always made people do good things without 
looking ridiculous. That is so difficult!” She 
sighed, and smoothed Nicoletta’s hair. 

‘^That must have been a beautiful story,” said 
Nadrovine, feeling Ilva’s embarrassment without 
looking at her, and hastening to change the subject. 
‘‘I shall try and get your cousin to tell it to me 
some day.” 

^^Oh, I am sure she will,” Lotta assured him. 
‘‘Won’t you, cousine dearest? You would tell it 
now if we begged you, would you not ?” 

“It is too late. The story is too long. And 
there I there is Marie beckoning to you.” 

She kissed the child and gave her a gentle push 
forward towards her nurse, after waiting for her to 
make her stately adieux to Nadrovine. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 71 

Miss Herbert was sitting with her fancy-work on 
the terrace, and looked up as they approached. 

Has mamma returned asked Ilva, after greet- 
ings had been interchanged. ^‘Is Aunt Cecilia in 
the drawing-roorn 

No ; Madame Boutry was still lying down, with 
a headache, and the countess had not returned. 

It is cooler out here,’^ said Ilva, hesitating. She 
did not wish to seem to dismiss him, and yet she 
shrank from forcing herself upon him. 

Let us stay outside, by all means,^’ replied Na- 
drovine. The sunset will be superb, and I am sure 
poor Miss Herbert would dislike being dragged in- 
doors.” 

Shall we walk, or will you bring chairs ?” 

Let us walk, if you are not tired.” 

Oh, no ! I am only tired of being still. I 
stooped too much over Lotta’s dolls. It has made 
my head heavy. It will be delightful to walk.” 

I brought your book with me. Shall I leave it 
with Miss Herbert ? Or perhaps it is a copy that 
you do not wish to remain about the house. I had 
the indiscretion to read some of your marginal notes. 
You will forgive me? You know what an interest 
I take in your writing ?” 

She stood looking at him, stung by a rush of 
mingled sensations. 

‘^How presumptuous, how silly, you must have 
thought me !” she exclaimed. 


72 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Why, DO. It is a remarkable bit of writing, 
— terse, original. If you are not displeased, I am 
delighted to have seen it. You have great imagina- 
tion.” 

^^Do you think so?” said Ilva, in a low voice.' 
Her heart seemed to shake her with its rapid beat- 
ing, for his approval or disapproval meant much to 
her. 

‘^Yes, great and original,” replied Nadrovine. 
‘^You will let me see some of your manuscripts, 
will you not ?” • 

Some. Perhaps. They are very badly written. 
I have never shown them.” 

I wish all the more to see them.” 

“ Do you ?” said the girl, for want of a better re- 
mark. It will be quite a task to read them. They 
are written on both sides of the paper. I believe that 
is a mistake.” 

Nadrovine was regarding her side-face as they 
walked up and down together. 

You are very serious in this,” he said. It is 
a very serious thing to you, is it not ?” 

Very. I love nothing so much. I cannot im- 
agine life without it. Do not encourage me to talk, 
signor, if you intend laughing at me. I believe that 
you are in earnest, but I have no past experience 
by which to judge. I have never spoken of this 
before to any one.” 

I am sure you do not think that I would laugh 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


73 


at you/’ said Nadrovine. His tone convinced her. 
She drew in a long breath of relief, and let it escape 
softly, that it might not sound like a sigh. 

It is very good of you to be interested,” she said, 
in a restrained voice. ‘‘You must have so many 
people talk to you in this vein.” 

“ On this subject ; not in this vein.” 

“ There are so many things that I should like to 
say to you, I do not know which to say first.” 

■ “ I hope that you will take time to say them all, 
signorina. Believe me, nothing could delight me 
more.” 

“ Oh, but there will not be time. I shall not see 
you often enough.” 

She paused, feeling that she had said something 
which had better have remained unspoken. She was 
too candid to try and escape by means of a subter- 
fuge, and stood before him wordless, and too over- 
whelmed to do more than control her expression of 
dismay. 

“ I suspect you will see me oftener than you have 
any idea of,” said Nadrovine, with ready tact. Her 
evident confusion was as delightful to him as the 
frankness of the silence which admitted it. 

“You are very, very good,” replied Ilva, and 
paused again. 

She thought hopelessly of the conversations that 
would have to pass between them before she could 
speak to him without embarrassment, and tilted 
j> 7 


74 the witness of the sun. 

her fine head with a certain air of restrained eager- 
ness. 

I say nothing that I wish she exclaimed, im- 
patiently. And then, before Nadrovine could correct 
her, I wish to tell you some simple thing, and I 
deliberately say something else. But I will tell you 
quickly, before my tongue runs away with the words, 
how I thank you for your good words. They en- 
courage me. They are much to me. I have read 
all your books. Herbert has them. I have marked 
some of them with my thumb-nail. Herbert will 
not have pencil-marks in her books, but she does not 
notice the nail-marks. Some of them made me 
breathe as though I had been running. The one 
where they take away poor Sovosky’s dog at the 
Siberian frontier, and one of the soldiers kicks it, 
and it whines and tries to get to Sovosky, and 
the soldier kicks it again and breaks its leg, — my 
face stung when I read that. I hated that sol- 
dier. I could see the dog, and poor Sovosky with 
the tears freezing on his face. Tell me,” she 
continued, eagerly, ^Mid you ever see a scene like 
that ?” 

Nadrovine paused a moment before answering 
her, looking down at the grass between them, and 
her high-curved foot sunk into its soft mat. Then 
he lifted his eyes to hers. 

My father is in Siberia,” he said. 

Ilva pressed her hands together, feeling the same 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


75 


hot smarting in her face that had stung her when 
reading of Sovosky and his dog. 

Siberia ? Your father ? He is in Siberia 
They, stood in silence, looking out over the sea, 
where in swirls of citron and vermilion a few sails 
were dissolving like feathers thrown against flame. 
Presently she said, in an undertone, — 

“ I do thank you for telling me that. I feel it. I 
feel it so much more than I can say. I cannot say 
how much.’’ 

‘‘ I can feel how much,” replied Yadrovine. 

A long, narrow veil of sea-blue gauze that she 
held over her arm blew out and clung to the cloth 
of his sleeve. It was like a visible sign of the airy 
thread of sympathy and confidence connecting them. 
He could have kissed it, so strongly had his feeling 
for the girl grown in this short, unlooked-for inter- 
view. 

You must not think that I told you this to harrow 
up your feelings and make you sorry for me, signo- 
rina. To be true, I love my mother best, although 
I always looked upon my father with an almost awed 
admiration. It will explain to you many things in 
my books which might otherwise seem unnecessarily 
bitter, — this fact of my father’s exile, I mean. My 
mother has borne it more bravely than I have. She 
is very wonderful. You will like each other, I am 
sure. I am sure, at least, that she will like you ; 
and she is very beautiful.” 


76 the witness of the sun. 

If she will let me like her,” said Ilva, hesitat- 
ingly. ^‘The friends of friends are so apt to be 
enemies, and one’s mother so rarely likes the people 
whom one is fondest of.” 

My mother and I are the exceptions that prove 
your rule, signorina.” 

You always agree ?” 

We have never yet disagreed.” 

“ And she is beautiful ? Is she at all like you ? 
I mean, is she dark or fair ?” 

She has ink-black hair, and emerald eyes, and a 
skin like milk. She is nearly as tall as I am, — too 
tall, say the little men and women. She is five foot 
ten, supple and majestic, and with such a sweet voice.” 

Oh, one does not care whether a woman is tall 
or short, if her voice is sweet,” said Ilva. Then 
you must be like your father? And was he tall 
also ?” 

“ Two inches taller than I am. You will think 
us a race of giants.” 

How lovely she must be, with her sweet voice !” 
sighed the girl. I do not wonder that you worship 
her.” The Countess Demarini was short and rather 
stout, and her voice, when she took the trouble to 
speak, had an asthmatic wheeze that gave way occa- 
sionally to a complaining whine. 

You have her picture?” continued Ilva, a little 
shyly. 

Yes, — two miniatures, — one in her Russian dress. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 77 

one in a black satin gown. If you would like to see 
them ” 

Oh, yes,’’ said Ilva, please.” 

Nadrovine took out his watch, opened it, and held 
it towards her. The face that she saw enthralled 
her. It was of a long, oval contour, clearly pale, 
save for the scarlet of the full, round lips, sur- 
mounted by night-colored hair, and made brilliant 
with dark-green eyes slightly prominent under thick, 
heavily -curved lids. The nose was short and well 
cut, the ears symmetrically placed and clasping closely 
the small, self-possessed head, the forehead high, 
boldly modelled, shaded by a few short curls melting 
into a violetish haze at the temples. 

The pretty Russian head-dress set with pearls 
and emeralds brought out vividly the tones of this 
charming face. 

How very beautiful ! How you must love 
her !” cried Ilva. “ And how young she looks !” 

‘^Yes,” replied Nadrovine, also gazing at the 
miniature in the young girl’s palm, she has a re- 
markable appearance for her age. That miniature 
was painted . only two years ago ; and she looks no 
older now. I am glad that we agree in this instance 
as well as in many others, signorina. I will tell my 
mother of your approval. She is coming shortly to 
Italy to spend the rest of this year with me.” 

Ilva turned on him her wide, clear gaze. 

Then I may see her ; we may know each other. 

7 * 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


78 ^ 

But I am afraid that young girls bore a woman like 
Madame Nadrovine.^^ 

Perhaps/^ said Nadroviue. ^^You would not 
bore her/^ 

Ah, but how can you tell 

We agree so perfectly/^ 

Ilva looked once more at the miniature that she 
held, and then returned him his watch. It was 
warm with her hand, and he kept it in his own 
for a minute or two. The western light was in her 
eyes and on her hair, and a sweep of mystic rose- 
gray throbbed behind her. She was still looking at 
him. 

“ I cannot tell you how kind I think you for the 
interest that you have shown in my work, in my 
wish to work,^^ she said, rapidly. know how 
very, very pale my hopes and ambitions must seem 
to you, — to you who have accomplished so much. 
I do not wish to say too much, to be what Herbert 
calls ^ gushing,' but I do wish you to know that I 
appreciate all that you have said to me of kindness 
and encouragement." 

“ It is you who have been kind to me," replied 
Nadrovine. 

‘‘But the whole world is kind to you. It is 
nothing for one unknown person to like what you 
write, and it is everything for me, — your approval, 
I mean. I shall work so hard now. I seem to feel 
a new zest : I am already longing to get my pen in 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 79 

my fingers. I may have something that I shall not 
feel ashamed to show you, after all.’^ 

I shall wish to see whatever you have written. 
Believe me, I speak honestly.’^ 

^^Ah, well, I cannot destroy your ideal of my 
power by doing anything so rash as that,^^ said Ilva. 
She laughed a little, and drew the dim blue veil 
about her head and throat. He thought that her 
eyes must be like the eyes of Pandora before she 
had opened her box. Perhaps she too picked the 
lock with a pen,’^ he reflected. 

‘‘There is one thing that I must tell you before 
I go,’’ he said, suddenly. “ You will think me trite, 
and possibly morbid.” 

“What is it? Say it,” returned the girl, with 
her eager imperiousness. 

“ It is this : that writing is a hard art. One has 
to suffer, — especially a woman, — especially a woman 
who has the courage of her 'opinions.” 

“ That means that you think I have the courage 
of mine, does it not, signor ?” 

“ I do think so, assuredly.” 

“But, then, if I am willing to suffer?” 

“ We are all willing to suffer as long as suffering 
means a vague pain which does not disturb our poise, 
or individuality, or surroundings. Ask yourself how 
you could bear to part with one of your hands.” 

She lifted one of her delicate hands, held it be- 
tween herself and the fading sunset, and hesitated. 


80 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


The idea of being maimed is always so horrible.” 

There are worse things than losing one’s hand, 
doushka.” 

What is worse ?” 

To have the eye of the public always at one’s 
key-hole. A man might go mad for that, thrust his 
pen through the opening and put it out, and so have 
no readers for his manuscripts. The sensation of 
being eternally pried upon, — there is nothing much 
worse than that ; and that is the penalty.” 

They were silent for a few moments, and then Ilva 
said, with a gentle dignity, — 

I will remember. I thank you for telling me.” 

She turned, and Nadrovine followed her to the 
piazza, before which the Countess Demarini’s carriage 
had just stopped. 

VII. 

Nadrovine was candid enough with himself to 
acknowledge, as he drove back to his lodgings, that 
he was interested in the girl to an absorbing degree. 
She had for him, in contrast to all other handsome 
women who had attracted him, that subtle charm 
which one only recognizes'after one has yielded to its 
spell. She seemed to him as graciously and serenely 
pure as her own eyes, and as vivid in her unusual 
naturalness as their changing lights. It was perhaps 
— or rather probably — the fact of her mother’s being 
an American that gave her the untrammelled grace 
of gesture and expression which so delighted him. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


81 


and she had evidently been without guidance save 
that which the long-suffering Herbert had ventured 
to exercise. He was also keenly conscious of the 
subtle flattery contained in the disclosures of Made- 
moiselle Lotta. He had evidently been the hero of 
all the young girl’s day-dreams. She had thought 
of him constantly, and he represented to her the 
entire world of men. Nadrovine had always cher- 
ished an aversion to marriage. He felt this aversion 
melting away as he fancied those quiet eyes trans- 
formed and wavering with the love-light that he 
should have kindled, those lips so placid and undis- 
turbed in their delicate curves trembling with words 
of confession. He did not realize how intensely her 
individuality had impressed him, until in his conjec- 
tures he found himself wondering what type of man 
would finally win and marry her. He shrunk from 
it as sensitively-organized people will sometimes 
shrink from throwing a flower into the fire. There 
was no man of whom he could think as husband to 
that slender. Psyche-faced child without a shudder of 
revulsion and apprehension ; for he was one of the few 
men who recognize that a woman may be married 
while her soul remains unwedded, and that the fate 
of the victims of the Minotaur was preferable to this. 
He realized that the only love to which such a woman 
would yield would have to be as supreme in its rev- 
erence as in its fire, a white flame, still, pure, and ever- 
ascending. Her dreams would be a man’s only rival ; 
/ 


82 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


but then few have ever estimated the force in the 
rivalry of an ideal. The man who is measured by a 
woman’s imagined lover is far less fortunate than the 
man who has to deal with an actual being, Nadro- 
vine recognized all this ; but underneath and ever 
present was that consciousness of having dominated 
those girlish dreams, of having figured as ^^The 
Prince of the Silver Book.” 

He was often at the Yilla Demarini during the 
next fortnight. Sometimes he would see Ilva, gener- 
ally in the presence of her mother and Miss Herbert ; 
while once or twice he had the good fortune to find 
her alone with Lotta among the ruins of the little 
temple on the hill. She finally consented to show 
him one or two of her manuscripts, and he was singu- 
larly haunted by them, — vigorous original essays and 
poems, decidedly ungirlish in their handling of sub- 
jects which she could only have imagined. He saw 
that there was genius throbbing under the crude 
richness of language and ideas, and told her so. 
She did not say much, but the look in her eyes was 
sufficient. He was beginning to tire of seeing only 
gratitude and appreciation in those clear eyes. She 
seemed made for love, — the love of a man who has 
recognized that God created him for one woman and 
who has lived his life with a view to their ultimate 
meeting. Nadrovine had so lived his life, and the 
girl was growing inexpressibly dear to him. 

He had the good fortune to find himself beside 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 33 

her on horseback late one afternoon in June. They 
were on their way with Miss Herbert, Lotta, and 
her two brothers to visit an old castle belonging to 
a cousin of Count Demarini, a haunted place which 
boasted murders and blood-stains, and, best of all 
in the eyes of the two boys, underground dungeons 
with great stone doors. They were wild to inspect 
these gloomy places, and chattered of them all the 
way over. 

“ What strange creatures boys are said Ilva to 
Nadrovine. “ They seem to delight in all sorts of 
cruel, grewsome things !” 

She was dressed in an English riding-habit, sit- 
ting square and straight on her neat hunting-saddle, 
and riding a handsome chestnut with one white hind 
stocking and a star between his eyes. 

‘‘ I confess that I don’t like boys,” she added, 
pausing as though to wait for his expression of dis- 
approval. 

Sometimes one finds a boy whom one loves,” 
replied Nadrovine, but it is very rare. The two 
little animals in front are very pretty, with their blue 
eyes and blond hair, but they are little animals for 
all that.” 

^^So different from Lotta. She is like a sweet 
fairy,” said Ilva. And how deliciously she man- 
ages her pony ! One wants to take her, pony and 
all, into one’s arms.” 

She adores you.” 


84 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Yes ; she has a great ideal of me. I fear for 
her when it is dispelled. It takes a great deal of 
self-control to live up to a child^s ideal of one.’^ 

Or a woman’s/^ said Nadrovine. 

Do you think that many women have ideals of 
men, nowadays, Signor Nadrovine? I know very 
few women, but those that I do know seem to me 
hardly to do men justice.’^ 

“ That is perhaps the reason, signorina, why we do 
not live more nobly. We know that most women 
do not expect it of us.’’ 

She turned on him her frank smile and the glow 
of her believing look. 

^‘Why do you say such things, except in your 
books ? I know that you have lived nobly.” 

I was only speaking of men as a class. I have 
had my mother’s belief in me to live up to. I owe 
much — nearly everything — to my mother.” 

She must deserve your worship, signor.” 

You will think so indeed when you know her. 
I expect her next week. I am like a lover await- 
ing his lady, — as restless and nervous as a boy.” 

It must be almost divine to a mother to have such 
a love,” said the girl. It is the most beautiful love 
of all. Do you not think so?” 

‘‘No, signorina.” 

“ You do not ?” She flushed a little, but asked her 
question bravely. 

“ No, doushka ; there is one love which, when it is 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


85 


as God meant it to be, is more godlike than any on 
earth. The love of Christ for the Church is not 
compared to the love of a father for his child.’^ 

said Ilva. She could control her voice, 
but not the violent leaping of her heart. 

Can’t we ride faster ?” here called Miss Herbert, 
who, unlike most Englishwomen, did not ride well, 
disliked a trot, aud was only happy when cantering. 

We can see nothing of the castle before sundown if 
we do not hurry.” 

There will be a moon,” said Nadrovine under 
his breath. 

His heart was beating rapidly also, and he wished 
poor Herbert in many an unpleasant place. 

Yes, nearly a full moon,” said Ilva. They set 
their horses in a gallop and soon overtook and 
repassed the others. 

How you would enjoy a ride over the steppe !” 
said Nadrovine, as they drew rein. I can see you 
on a black Russian horse with your hair loose.” 

Oh ! oh !” said Ilva, relieved at finding an excuse 
to laugh. One never rides with loosened hair ex- 
cept in Perrault’s fairy-tales. Fancy how slovenly 
one would look in a top-hat with one’s hair flying !” 

I was thinking of the contrast between the horse’s 
mane and your hair. You have such wonderful hair. 
It is like a little child’s, and it is so thick. It must 
weigh your arms down to comb it out.” 

Ah ! here we are at the gate,” said Ilva. What 
8 


86 the witness of the sun. 

hideous stone griffins ! but the gate itself is beauti- 
ful.” 

There are three more miles through the 
grounds,” called Miss Herbert. We must hurry, 
my dear !” 

They galloped up to the door of the castle. It 
was a great square pile, draped with vines, and sur- 
rounded by huge cedars and olive-trees. They were 
shown over it by the cicerone, a withered creature 
with dull eyes and an even duller mind. He had 
not a word to say, but threw open doors on gloom 
and beauty alike with the same unvarying stolidity 
of countenance. 

They were retiring rather disappointed with their 
jaunt, when Victor and Georges precipitated them- 
selves at the same time upon Miss Herbert, crying. 
The dungeons ! the dungeons ! We must see the 
dungeons !” 

Well ” said Miss Herbert, weakly. 

Do you care about it ?” Nadrovine asked Ilva. 

^^Now that we are here, we might as well see 
them,” she replied ; and the boys seem beside 
themselves.” 

It was therefore decided that they should visit 
the dungeons. Pietro, the cicerone, arranged a very 
mediaeval-looking torch in a species of iron cup, and 
prepared to lead the way. 

Why don’t you take a lantern ?” asked Nadro- 
vine. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 87 

We have no lanterns, Excellency,’’ replied the 
automaton. 

Then a candle or a lamp ?” 

“ Candles and lamps blow out. Excellency.” 

In that case, your idea of the torch is capital,” 
said Nadrovine, dryly; and they all laughed, — all 
except Pietro, who descended the narrow stairways 
like a statue in motioi), with no expression on his 
face whatever, either of amusement or distaste. 

There were four of these underground cells, each 
damper and more slimy than the last. The mud 
seemed to be at least an inch thick on the soggy 
floors, and the slime clung in ropes to the trickling 
walls. 

Let us go in, just to say we have been in,” urged 
the boys ; and so all six went and stood in the 
hideous place, shrinking involuntarily from the coated 
roof and sides. The doors were of stone a foot thick. 

No one spoke. 

Three men were starved to death in there, so it 
is said,” droned the cicerone, giving voice to his first 
remark. He would not enter, but stood just with- 
out, thrusting his torch back and forth and waving 
it about to give them a full view of the horrors which 
surrounded them. They started. It seemed almost 
like the utterance of a ghost. The only unimpressed 
beings were the two boys, who flitted in and out like 
will-o’-the-wisps, their fair hair seeming to catch fire 
from the fitful torch-light. 


88 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


VIII. 

No one could quite tell how it happened. There 
seemed to be a sudden scuffle, a sharp cry from Pietro. 
The torch fell hissing in the mud just beyond the 
groat door, and the door itself closed with a heavy 
jar. Everything at once became quiet. No sound 
reached them from the outside. In the ooze of the 
floor the great knot of resinous wood lay sputtering 
and sending up a heavy coil of smoke. The faces 
of the four who were shut in were seen wide-eyed 
and strained in the dull glow. Miss Herbert drew 
Lotta up into her arms and pressed the child’s face 
down upon her shoulder. 

Victor ! Georges !” cried Nadrovine, open at 
once !” 

He struck the stone with his hands. No grave 
was ever more silent than the place into which they 
had been shut. The fallen torch smoked on slowly 
to its final spark, and the cell was filled with the 
tarry smoke. Then a thick, soundless darkness 
closed about them. Lotta began to sob in a nervous 
ecstasy of fear. 

Ilva felt Nadrovine close at her side, though he 
did not touch her. 

“ I am not afraid,” she said, before he could speak. 

Shall we have to wait long ?” 

I cannot tell,” he replied. Those little ” 

he addressed some terms to the sportive young 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


89 


Boutrjs between bis closed teeth. ^^They should 
be soundly flogged/^ he ended. I fear you will 
take a horrible cold in this vile den. Wait a 
moment.’’ 

Ilva felt something soft thrust under her feet ; she 
trod upon it with a smile which seemed strangely 
unnecessary in that thick blackness. 

Is it not drier? You do not feel the damp so 
much ?” inquired Nadrovine, anxiously. 

She said, ^^No. I thank you so very much.” 

Lotta went on sobbing, and the sound was almost 
a relief to them. 

There passed what seemed to them a long time, 
have some matches,” said Nadrovine. He 
struck them one after another until they were all 
gone, and looked at his watch. 

It had been only four minutes since they were 
locked into the cell. 

This is terrible !” cried Miss Herbert, shrilly. 

What can have happened ? I will see that those 
boys have a just punishment, — a severe caning.” 

And I !” said Nadrovine, grimly. They felt 
that Miss Herbert nodded approval before again 
bestowing her attention on the frightened Lotta. 

The minutes slowly passed. Ilva could hear the 
loud ticking of Nadrovine’s watch in the dense 
silence, and it seemed strange that it should con- 
tinue on its way so calmly, — as strange as that 
the rich Italian sky swept cloudless overhead, and 
8 * 


90 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


that the fair afternoon moved on to night uninter- 
rupted. 

I can’t understand why they do not let us out 
at once,” said II va, finally. Do you suppose that 
the cicerone does not know how to open the door ?” 

‘^It may not have been shut for many years,” 
replied Nadrovine. He may not understand how 
to unclose it. Are you cold ? I seem to feel that 
you are shivering.” 

You felt that ? How strange ! I was shiver- 
ing ; but I am not cold. After all, it is a grewsome 
feeling, being shut into a place like this.” 

Involuntarily they spoke in whispers and drew 
nearer to each other. Nadrovine was standing be- 
tween Ilva and Miss Herbert, and put his hand on 
Lotta’s little head to reassure her while he spoke. 

‘^It cannot last more than ten minutes longer, 
at the utmost,” he said. Evidently the cicerone 
has gone to get aid of some kind. You must have 
conquered both Victor and Georges at fencing this 
morning, mademoiselle, to cause such spite.” 

f-f-fenced with Georges,” sobbed Lotta, ‘^and 
b-b-broke his f-foil, and then I made V- Victor 
angry b-by saying he would be a s-s-sneak if he 
told — if he t-told M-m-aman when Georges pushed 
me. Oh, will it be long, m’sieu ? Please hold my 
other hand. Please hold me very tight, Mees Her- 
bert. I wish you would tell me a story about light 
places, and sunshine, and bright blue and pink 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


91 


flowers ! It will help me to compose myself. You 
know truly I believe myself to be dreaming.’’ She 
fell into nervous sobbing again, and buried her head 
in Miss Herbert’s shoulder. 

If one had only brought one’s goloshes !” mur- 
mured that patient creature. ‘^But, then, how could 
one imagine such a contingency? Hush, hush, my 
dear child ! I will tell you a story, if you will only 
listen.” She went ofi* into a long, rambling narrative 
in which she and her four brothers and sisters all 
played conspicuous parts. 

^^You are still shivering. I am sure that you 
must be cold,” said Nadrovine. You are too near 
that damp wall.” He put out his hand to ascertain 
her position, and it came in contact with her soft hair. 

If you would lean on me !” he said, in a low 
voice. 

He found the slight, ungloved hand and drew it 
through his arm. ‘^How you tremble, my poor 
child !” he whispered. This will have a terrible 
effect on you.” 

She did not answer at once, and then said finally, 
in a low voice, “ I am glad that you are here. I feel 
safe.” 

Doushka !” he whispered, in an indescribable 
tone. 

II va felt that a tremor ran through him also. She 
strove to control herself. 

I — I think if only Miss Herbert and Lotta and 


92 the witness of the sun. 

I had been shut into this dungeon, that I should have 
suffered a great deal. I think of all sorts of horrors. 
I seem to feel those starving wretches crawling and 
cursing in the mud at my feet.^^ 

She felt herself drawn closer to hyp, a perceptible, 
imperious movement. 

You are not afraid with me ?” 

You trust me ? — you believe in me 

You feel that I would stand between you and all 

evil 

There was a pause, and then she said, clearly, — 

I feel that.” 

Ilva !” said Nadrovine. She felt his arms close 
around her. She did not repulse him. His lips 
rested against her forehead, and all the darkness 
seemed to press in golden throbbings against her 
closed lids. 

She stood locked in his arms, wordless, for a long 
while. They could hear Miss Herbert droning out 
her chronicles of Matilda and Alfred and John and 
Charlotte and their troubles with their kitchen-gar- 
dens, and how they were paid fourpence for every 
turnip that they brought to perfection, and sixpence 
for every carrot, and how they discovered a new 
species of rose by mixing the seeds, and how they 
made enough money by it to purchase a brass lecturn 
for a gift to their father on Michaelmas, etc., etc., etc. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


93 


Ilva felt sure that Lotta was right and that they 
were all dreaming. Those quivering lips on her fore- 
head were the only real things in this chaos of un- 
usualness and living gloom. 

As for Nadrovine, the past seemed to have broken 
in a mighty wave on the shore of the present, and to 
have left him stranded there. All his ideas and 
theories of the last ten years were no more in this 
surge of emotion than shells and strips of sea-weed 
on the actual sea. He knew that to clasp in his arms 
this fragile piece of girlhood, feeling her content to 
be there, was sufficient, and that the hope of sealing, 
on some future day, her pure and sensitive lips with 
his, held for him more possibilities of joy than were 
contained in the cup of fame pressed down and run- 
ning over. He loved her as women should pray 
Heaven to be loved, — with a keen recognition of all 
the traits that he did not himself possess, and a de- 
termination to consider them most when he under- 
stood them least,— with a reverence as intense as it 
was sincere for the child in her, which is part of every 
complete woman, old or young, an absolute belief in 
her delicacy of soul and body, an adoration of her 
very self and spirit, which constrained him rather to 
imagine the love as seen in her eyes than as felt on 
her lips, and an awe for her purity which made him 
think that, while as her lover he might dare to caress 
her mouth, as her husband he would only venture 
to kiss the utmost edge of her garments. 


94 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


In a few moments more the door was opened for 
them. 

It was as Nadrovine had thought : the cicerone 
had had to procure the aid of two other servants be- 
fore he could move the heavy block of stone. Victor 
and Georges were scampering homeward, in dismay 
at what they had done. 

Nadrovine and Ilva rode forth beneath a sky which 
seemed to float like a golden bubble above them, — a 
bubble blown upward from the great bowl of the 
earth which hollowed to the horizon. The pines 
seemed dripping with sherry. 

They are like green beards of Tritons drenched 
in wine,” said Ilva, fancifully, as if speaking to her- 
self. 

Miss Herbert, urged by wrath, had for once con- 
quered her fears, and had ridden ahead at a smart 
gallop to overtake and lecture the two culprits. 
Lotta at her heels on her Polo pony forced the 
pace, and they were both soon beyond sight and 
hearing. 

Ilva, feeling Nadrovine’s eyes upon her, moved 
uneasily in the saddle. 

“ Doushka, give me your hand,” he said, at last. 

She put it, palm up, in his. 

Do you give it to me really, my shy one ? Is it 
mine to do with as I like ?” 

She could not trust herself to speak, but made a 
downward movement of assent with her chin. 


TEE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


95 


“ Then first,” said Nadrovine, raising it to his lips, 
this, and afterwards — ^this.” He drew a ring from 
his own hand and pushed it firmly to the base of her 
slight finger, saying, in a low voice, — 

‘‘With this ring I seal thee to me. Thou art 
mine, my betrothed, my promised.” 

She trembled, and he released her hand. 

“ Will you see if you can read the motto cut in the 
stone, doushka ?” he asked, after a long pause. “ The 
light is fading, but the letters are very clearly cut. 
Try.” 

She held her hand towards the mellow tremble 
overhead, and read aloud, falteringly, — 

“ ‘ Esto sol testis.’ It is Latin, is it not ? I do 
not understand Latin well. What is the meaning ?” 

“ ‘ Let the sun be a witness,’ ” replied Nadrovine. 
“Let a man strive to keep his life so clean and 
without reproach that the sun can search its every 
cranny without bringing unwholesome or ugly facts 
to light. It is not the family motto. It is the 
motto that I selected for myself and had cut in that 
sapphire when I was a boy of fourteen. I wish 
you to wear it now and share it with me.” 

hie smiled, and, stooping, kissed the ring as it 
lay like a drop of blue sea-water upon her pale 
hand. “ I wish the sun to be a witness to my love 
for you.” 

“Oh!” said the girl, dropping her reins and 
placing both hands against her throat. 


96 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


The horses had stopped together on the crest of a 
little hill. 

What is it asked Nadrovine, quickly. 

Nothing. I love you so She leaned towards 
him, holding out her arms. Her eyes dwelt full 
and clear upon his. He bent to her, and she pressed 
his head against her for a moment, looking out over 
it into the red ball of the sinking sun that he had 
invoked to witness their betrothal. It seemed to 
her as though she were gazing through a flaming 
orifice straight to the core of heaven. Her heart 
was a prayer within her. It would have been 
almost a sacrilege to form words with her lips at 
that unspeakable moment. 

They rode on in silence for a long while, until 
the last fires of the splendid, cloudless sunset were 
blotted out by the soft gloom of twilight gray as a 
moth’s wing. The green lights of the first few stars 
shone down upon them through the rich haze, like 
glow-worms seen through a vast cobweb. Overhead 
was the sound of the wind in the pines and the call 
of the nightingales. The night opened about them 
like a great flower sleepy with perfume. They 
seemed folded in its warm petals, — a part of it, — 
as content as the small creatures that live in roses. 
He held her hand, and her life seemed flowing into 
his through that close clasp. He could not believe 
in a time when this proud sense of ownership, of 
duality, had not possessed him. The great, glorious. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 97 

changing, growing night seemed without meaning 
save as a setting for that young creature at his side, 
with her hair which seemed woven of the spiritual- 
ized sunlight which one sees in dreams, and her eyes 
which seemed to hold all shadows and light, all love 
and pain, in their serene depths. 

He felt that even pain with her would be out- 
wardly a calm thing, a great stillness, as her love 
was now. But she spoke to him presently. 

seem to have belonged to you always,’’ she 
said, with her beautiful candor. I seem only to 
have a right to myself through you. Your love 
makes me glad to be myself ; because if I had been 
any one else, no matter how great or good, you 
would not have loved me, and your love is best. 
No, no : you must not speak ; you must not con- 
tradict me. Just let me say what is in my heart. 
I feel that what is there must run into your heart 
like a stream into the great sea. It is wonderful to 
think that I have your love, — I out of the world ! 
It is as though a great star were to concentrate its 
light all on some little flower, and say, ^ I will shine 
only for this flower that I love.’ It is as though 
some high one in heaven were to refuse to sing in 
the great choir, that his voice might be heard only 
in the dreams of some poor woman upon earth 
whom he loved and waited for. Ah, do not inter- 
rupt me ! It is so big in my heart. It strains it. 
I have no one else to speak to, — indeed, no one that 
g 9 


98 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


I care to speak to. You are the only one, — the very 
first, — the first since I was a little child and I gave 
you my silver book. You helped to form my life. 
You helped to make me into what you now love. 
You were like a song through the silence of my life, 
— like the song that Pippa sang so unconsciously, 
always, always at the right moment. Always your 
memory was with me at the right moment. I never 
had a wrong thought, a wrong impulse, that your 
face did not come to me as clear, as clear, — it was 
as clear as that white magnolia flower there in the 
moonlight. And your eyes would look so grieved. 
I longed to ask your pardon, to have you take my 
hand and say that you forgave me. I dreamed 
about you sometimes when I was awake, sometimes 
when I was asleep. When I used to fancy how it 
would be if you were dead, it seemed to me that my 
life would never stop going on, on, on, on. And 
my heart seemed like a tiresome voice insisting that 
I was alive. I would try not to listen to it ; but it 
would seem to fill the room. And then I would lie 
quite still and think, ^ After all, it is you who love 
him, my heart. Beat on, beat on ! Oh, do not 
stop ! without you I could not give him my love.’ 

And then I would imagine you married to some 
one, — some one fair and tall, having great dark eyes, 
and wonderful hair with deep shadows and lights, 
like the lights on moving water, — some one whom 
you loved. It was like a band squeezing my heart. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 99 

It \va§ as though crabs had my throat and side in 
their nippers. I would get up and go to the window 
and fill my soul with the night. And then peace 
and rest and gentleness would seem to flow down 
to me through the stars, as though their rays were 
silver threads binding my soul to heaven. I would 
say, ‘Perhaps it cools his eyes to take the stars deep, 
deep into them. Perhaps he kneels sometimes and 
looks up at them as I am looking now.^ And then 
I would say, ‘ Give him peace too, dear stars. Give 
him rest, and a cool quietness, and thoughts of the 
shady places of heaven, as you have given me.’ 
And then I would sleep. I was only a child ; but 
I loved you. Oh, I loved you ! — not so much as I 
do now, but much — much !” 

She lifted his hand, and would have pressed her 
lips upon it, but he stopped her. 

“Not that ! not that !” He could not speak. 

She waited for him, looking up at the gathering 
stars in mid-heaven. “ My heaven-hearted one ! my 
spirit-love !” he said, at last. “ How am I to speak 
to you? How am I to put into my blunt man’s 
words the story of my love for you ? Let me prove 
it to you, beloved ! Do not wait for me to speak. 
There is nothing that I can say after what you have 
told me. Even the passion of sunlight would seem 
too earthly after the starry sweetness of your words. 
You are all to me, — everything. You are sun and 
stars, the night and the day, the- inland and the 


100 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


ocean, reality, dreams, ambition, fruition. You sur- 
pass my ideal, inasmuch as it is not in the power of 
a man, no matter how clean and high his life has 
been, to evolve out of sheer imagination a woman 
like yourself. Were a man, even faintly, to imagine 
such a woman, she would seem in his dreams unreal, 
evasive, cold. You are as real to me as music, as 
th‘e May, as the light on summer hills, as warm as 
the heart of summer, sweeter, more full of possibili- 
ties. There is nothing chilling about you, and when 
I draw you to me, so, and feel your sweet life throb- 
bing in my arms, I wish that day might never break 
again, but that we could live on in this trance of 
content, closed in by this vast night, watched over 
by the stars with their light in our hearts.^’ 

My man of men,’^ said the girl, was I not 
right to love you 

You humble me ! you humble me T’ cried Nad- 
rovine, passionately. “ I had thought my life a 
clean one until your love shone on it. And now it 
seems full of dark places 

It is full of my love,” she said, pressing her 
cheek to his, and touching his bended throat lightly 
with the ends of her long fingers. 

I cannot speak,” he said. Forgive me. I 
have no words. I have dreamed of such a love, — 
of such a love as I feel for you, I mean. There are 
no words. I will listen to you.” 

A lustrous quivering began to fill the air, — the 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


101 


light from the rising moon. All things were radiant 
witli it. White flowers appeared here and there from 
the shadows, as the stars had appeared at first in the 
heavens. As the silver edge began to gleam behind 
the almond-trees on a rise near by, she turned to 
him with an exquisite shyness, lifting her face to his 
in the tranquil light. 

Let the moon be a witness, also,’’ she said, on a 
catching breath; and, stooping, Nadrovine put his 
mouth to the word-stirred lips. It was a kiss long 
and gentle, but such a kiss" as he would have given 
a child. He could not have kissed her as a lover 
then, even had she desired it. But she smiled with 
perfect joy, drooping her head a little, and grudging 
even the night-wind its touch upon her lips. 

They parted in utter silence, IS^adrovine holding 
her upon his breast a moment when he lifted her 
from the saddle, and making silently the sign of the 
cross upon her forehead. 


IX. 

Nadrovine w’as a man whose nature was too re- 
fined for his life to have been coarse. He was moral 
rather from inclination than from principle; although 
principle would have restrained him to a great de- 
gree even had his tastes been different from what 
they were. Crime had no attraction for him, and 
he would as soon have turned from galloping upon 
elastic turf to plunge along through a muddy lane, 
9 ^ 


102 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


as to have turned aside from the pursuit of his art 
to accept caresses that bored liim. There are such 
men. They are termed icicles by the ignoble and 
given small credit for their course of action. “ We 
will give a tiger credit for not eating men,” say the 
wise, but a horse is graminivorous : why should we 
praise him because he does not feed upon flesh ?” 

In truth, Nadrovine was not cold ; but the fires 
of his nature were as deeply buried as those of 
earth, and when they were quiescent ice and snow 
could form above them, and so the wise were de- 
ceived. The hearts of most men are like the grates 
in inns, where the wood is laid ready for kindling ; 
and the smile of any pretty woman is enough to set 
it in a blaze. Nadrovine’s heart resembled a vol- 
cano, and it depended upon his own nature and the 
voice of one woman as to whether or not the hidden 
flame would be discernible. 

To those who have an indomitable patience, love 
in its highest and most complete form invariably 
comes. Whether it be for pain or gladness, those 
who have dreamed loyally of Love, not condescend- 
ing meanwhile to distract themselves with Philotes 
will always feel, at last, his hands in theirs, and see 
the tears and laughter of his eyes. As Nadrovine 
rode slowly home beneath the tremulous splendor 
of the stars, yesterday seemed as far beyond him as 
though he had slept for a thousand years and been 
awakened by a kiss. He seemed always to have 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 103 

loved her, — always to have belonged to her, as she 
had said of herself in regard to him, with her pure 
frankness. In truth, it is never anything but what 
we have given up that comes to us. He had given 
up, long ago, all idea of bestowing or receiving love, 
and now his breast actually ached with a magnitude 
of devotion such as he had never ventured to describe, 
even in his most impassioned romances. Here was a 
love which seemed the beginning of everything in- 
stead of the end of a great many. Instead of resign- 
ing all other women in order to possess this one, he 
felt that in contrast with her all others ceased to 
exist. They became mere* ciphers, which served to 
increase the value of his unit by passing behind her, 
and he wondered that he had not recognized in her as 
a child the spirit which as a woman would enthrall 
him. 

He entered the cool hall of the pretty villa which 
he had taken in order that his mother might spend 
the rest of the summer with him. There was a 
heavy scent of roses on the air. An armful of the 
deep, orange-colored flowers lay on a low table under 
some wax-lights, and two or three had fallen on the 
red tiles of the floor. As he stood absently looking 
at them, the faint odor of a cigarette passed through 
a curtained door and floated towards him. At first 
he was scarcely conscious of it, then started, and, 
turning, entered between the curtains into the apart- 
ment beyond. 


104 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Ah, at last was breathed rather than spoken. 
His mother, leaning back among gold-colored 
cushions with a knot of the orange roses at her breast, 
reached up languidly with her beautiful, half-bare 
arms and drew his mouth down upon hers. The 
perfume of the cigarette-smoke upon her breath and 
in her hair irritated him, and the roses jarred upon 
him after the wonderful freshness of the night out- 
side, — being of the rare, hot-house species which one 
invariably associates with dinners and balls. 

The slight shade of annoyance, however, only ac- 
centuated the radiant expression of welcome which 
had lighted his face when she first spoke. 

Have you waited long he said. I did not 
expect you until to-morrow. Is your room in readi- 
ness ? Have you as many apartments as you wish ? 
Small one, how good it is to see you 

She leaned over him as he knelt at her side, caress- 
ing his curls by nipping them with her lips which 
she drew in over her teeth, and pulling them so as to 
cause him a slight pain. His chin she had taken 
into one of her strong, flexile palms, so that he could 
not pull away, and her other hand was Tehind his 
throat. 

I have everything. I have you, my little dear 
one she replied. It seems to me as though I can 
never forget that you were once my baby, and that 
you lay with your little face buried in my throat, 
and pinched me with your sharp little gums to show 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


105 


when you were hungry. I feel you now, — no longer 
than one of these roses, stem and all ; and so soft ! 
You smelt always of ironed linen and dried violets. 
I can sniff your little damp head on the flannel now. 
And that is all gone forever ! Vladimir, if you ever 
marry I don’t think I shall make a great noise. I 
think I shall go very quietly to your bride’s house 
to take her a wedding-present; and when she is 
asleep, with her white throat bent backward for 
your dreamed-of kisses, I shall give it one snip, deep 
to the left, with my little, crooked toilet-scissors, and 
then strike her across the lips, very lightly, once with 
my gloves. Come ! How pale you are ! How you 
scowl, my great one ! Come into your old small 
one’s arms and let her tell you that really your bride 
shall be as her own child, and that she will kiss the 
pretty throat and mouth many times for the kisses 
that you will have left there. Ah!” she added, 
pressing her lips again to his, but it is absurdly 
delicious to think that I am not called on to share 
you yet, — that you are all mine, — all that you do not 
put in those books of yours. But there is some- 
thing different, — a look, a pose, a — I don’t know 
what. Is it a new book ? Have you been writing 
a love-scene ?” 

She drew back, pressing him from her with a hand 
on either shoulder and regarding him steadily from 
narrowed lids with her dark-green, jewel-like eyes. 

Ah, yes ! you have been writing one of those de- 


106 the witness of the sun. 

scriptions where one feels through the people one is 
writing of. You have trembled with your hero be- 
neath the kiss of some beautiful woman. He has 
taken her in his arms, and your breast has throbbed. 
Go ! — go and bring it and read it to me. I will 
not even smoke while I listen.” She gave him a 
little push forward, but he leaned against her knees, 
saying that he was tired and had written no love- 
scene. 

Not 'with pen and ink, perhaps,” replied his 
mother, ^^but there has been one written on your 
mind’s tablets lately. Do not deny it ! There is a 
certain look upon your face of which I am a con- 
noisseur. Well, then, tell me of it ! I would much 
rather hear it related than read.” 

Nadrovine moved his head as it lay against her 
arm, to signify that he had nothing either to read or 
to relate. 

Ah, bah ! you are a stupid, sweet monster, like 
that fellow with the ass’s head in the play. I am 
to be your Titania and tickle your ears as you sleep, 
I suppose? Now rise at once, and seat yourself 
opposite me, that I may look at you. But not on 
poor Scud !” she added, as Nadrovine prepared to 
throw himself into a low wicker chair in front of her. 
There was lying in it a dapper fox-terrier which she 
shook unceremoniously from the silk cushion upon 
the floor. He is a nice little beast. I do not wish 
him out of the way, yet. And, besides, the proper 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 107 

method will be to chloroform him, not to mash him 
to a jelly.’’ 

“ Why do you have a fox-terrier ?” asked Nadro- 
vine. A Russian greyhound, or a deer-hound, or 
even a Siberian blood-hound, would suit you far 
better than that fidgety little gommeuxJ^ 

Precisely why I like him, dear, • great, but not 
always discerning one !. I dislike women who are 
eternally posing for harmonious effects. I am natu- 
rally expected to own a sleuth-hound, or some mon- 
ster of that sort, and to drive with my horses Rus- 
sian fashion ; therefore I prefer a fox-terrier and a 
curricle with a pair of English bays harnessed in 
the usual manner, as becomes a fading beauty with 
more than five gray hairs visible in the most con- 
spicuous waves of her tresses, and whose son writes 
novels which add at least a hundred years to her 

age.” 

She put one of her exquisite feet, in its silk 
stocking and small embroidered mulcj on the edge 
of the chair in which he was sitting, and rubbed it 
gently against him as she talked. She was nearly 
head and shoulders taller than the Medici, but the 
Medici could not have supported her plump body 
upon those fine, delicately-modelled ankles. 

Madame Nadrovine’s wrists and ankles would 
have been too small, had it not been for the perfect, 
lithe symmetry of her whole superb figure. Her 
white flesh was as hard and elastic as the flesh of a 


108 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


young horse, and she had the eyes of a girl. Those 
eyes in the rich maturity of her face were like some 
flowers of spring blooming in the heart of summer. 
They were a girl’s eyes, but experience spoke from 
every curve of the deeply-cut lips. 

^ A fading beauty’ !” echoed Nadrovine, clasping 
the narrow foot. Small one ! some one has been 
praising you lately, else you would not venture to 
say such a thing. And so you have five gray hairs ? 
Give them to me, and I will have them made into 
a paint-brush to color that pretty mole on the left 
of your chin, there.” 

Le bon Dieu has saved me that trouble, mon 
cheVy^ replied his mother, tranquilly. But your 
thought is a kindness, nevertheless. I will smoke 
now, I think. My cigarette-case, if you please.” 
She extended her hand, — one of those beautiful hands 
whose palms look like crumpled pink tissue-paper, 
and yet which have the strength of machinery. 

He handed her the simple silver case with its 
cipher — S. N. — in gold, and she snapped back the 
lid with an impatient click, finding it empty. 

I am rather glad of that,” said Nadrovine, lazily 
reaching for papers and tobacco. I enjoy nothing 
much more than seeing you roll cigarettes.” 

Baby ! I love you !” she replied, pressing him 
with a little movement of her foot. By the way, 
Vladimir, have you your horse with you ?” 

Czarina, you mean ? Yes. Will you ride here ?” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


109 


‘^Eide?^^ She paused to look at him, with the 
moist rose tip of her tongue against the cigarette 
which she was rolling. Will I ride here ? Dear 
great one ! can you fancy me in any place two days, 
two hours, without being on horseback? If I am 
ever translated, I trust it will be in a saddle rather 
than a chariot.” 

“ My horses are at your disposal, most dear.” 

She rose to light her cigarette over the lamp near 
which they were sitting. The light caught her curled 
eyelashes and the jut of her strongly-marked brows. 
He thought he detected a slight tremor at the corners 
of her mouth. 

^^Why do you smile?” he demanded, somewhat 
quickly. 

Oh, well, — at nothing, — at a thought.” She 
pulled the fox-terrier’s ears between her thumb and 
little finger, holding her cigarette in her first and 
third. Then, suddenly lifting her eyes upon his, — 
Am I ^ most dear’ ?” 

Nadrovine started perceptibly. He felt his cheeks 
sting, and a certain bigness about his heart, which 
beat fiercely. 

‘‘Am I?” repeated his mother, serenely. She 
blew some rings of smoke from her rounded lips, 
and he thought with an absent-minded fancifulness 
that they looked like the ghosts of kisses. 

“ Why should you ask me such a question ?” he 
inquired, finally, with abruptness. 

10 


no WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

Why? Oh, because it suggested itself! I won- 
dered. I put my wonder into words. There is the 
whole story.” 

^^You will always be ^most dear’ in your own 
peculiar way,” said Nadrovine. He looked down 
at his left hand, surprised for the moment not to 
feel the familiar ring upon his finger. His mother 
followed his glance. 

‘‘In — my — own — peculiar — way?” she repeated, 
curiously. And then, “ Your sapphire, my scribbler 
dear? — your unequalled ‘Esto sol testis’? Where 
is he? Not lost?” There was again that little 
flicker at her mouth’s edge. 

“ No, not lost,” said Nadrovine. 

“Well, and what then?” 

“ I took it off.” 

“ You — took — it — off?” repeated his mother, with 
the same almost imperceptible pause between the 
words. She smiled openly this time. “ And, pray, 
where did you put it ?” 

“ Where it will be even safer,”- he answered, rally- 
ing suddenly. “Where the sun will be a better 
witness than ever.” 

“ Oh ! So I” said his mother. 

“ Come !” cried Nadrovine, rising to his feet. “ It 
is so hot in here ! Look at the poor moths on the 
table there, and your book curling in the lamp-light ! 
Let us walk on the terrace. I know that you love 
the sea.” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. m 

Come, then/^ she replied. She stretched an arm 
out on either side, and let the end of her cigarette 
fall from her relaxed fingers. Her gown of cream- 
white Chinese silk hid the straining of her supple 
figure beneath its numerous folds. “ Ah,^^ she said, 
with clinched teeth, that was a renewal of every- 
thing. Pull me up, and I can walk with you all 
night.’^ He drew her to her feet, and they passed 
together into the hushed and radiant night without. 
A strong sea-air entered their nostrils, and lips parted 
to speak, changing the woman’s mood and intensify- 
ing that of the man. 

One wishes one’s self a star on a night like this !” 
she said, opening the folds of silk at her neck and 
expanding her splendid chest. One wishes to be 
loved only by God and children ! — one’s own child,” 
— she pressed upon the shoulder of her son, — and 
the children of misfortune.” 

My mother !” he said, forgetting, in that thrilled 
moment, even the eyes of Ilva. 

My son !” she returned. She stopped, hesitated, 
confronted him. ^ For I, the Lord thy God, am 
a jealous God !’ ” she repeated. Vladimir, that 
might read, ^For we, the women thy mothers, are 
jealous women !’ To give up ! It is impossible. 
It is impossible, Vladimir ! To give up our own to 
strangers ! To be forsaken ! Our Lord has said 
that we must be forsaken. Yes ! and God also 
said, ^ Honor thy father and thy mother!’ It is 


112 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

terrible ! Why do those great words contradict each 
other ? To give them up, our own, our heart’s blood ! 
— to give them up to little, pretty things who do not 
even know what it means to accept them, — to take 
them from us !” 

She spoke to the sea, holding her strong throat 
with a hand on either side. 

To give them up, their eyes, their voices, their 
days, their nights, the talents and passions that they 
have drawn from our breasts. To give them up! 
— always to give them up ! To be forsaken ! To 
be content to be forsaken ! To feel that we are second 
to what will forever be first with us ! To remember 
our pain that gave them being, and to endure pain 
more frightful in resigning them I To know that 
they will never be wholly ours again I To know 
that their arms are only nests for others, their hearts 
quickened with another’s image, their lips waiting 
for her, that heaven means only the possibility of 
her presence! Jealous? Jealous? Vladimir!” — 
her voice rang through him, — where is your ring ?” 


X. 

The sound of the sea seemed to cease for Nadro- 
vine. He heard only the pumping of his quick 
blood past his ears. His mother’s face shut out the 
phosphorescent line of surf beyond, — a face which 
was a shadow, broken only by the glittering ques- 
tions of her eyes. He was dumb, overwhelmed by 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


113 


a vast distaste to sharing his secret even with her. 
He had not meant to reveal it for some days. Ilva, 
he knew, would remain silent until he told her to 
speak. His mother waited, moveless, wordless. He 
could hear her heart beating a little out of time with 
his, — more quickly and unevenly. She was still 
holding her throat in both hands, and her silk gown 
made a subdued, crisp noise in the varying wind 
which was not unlike an echo of the advancing, re- 
ceding waves below. 

He spoke at last, taking down her hands from 
her throat and placing them against his breast. 

Trust me, my mother ^ he said. They were 
the first words that came to him. 

‘^Show yourself worthy,’^ she answered. ^^Let 
me trust you. Your ring, Vladimir 
^ He stooped and kissed the hands that he held. 

“ If I tell you in a week, small one, will that 
do ?” 

Why in a week 

It is a whim, — a desire. I beg of you, give me 
this week. Have you never wanted a week out of 
your life all to yourself, for no particular reason 

But why a week ? Why not two weeks ? Why 
not two days 

You will trust me 

I must She drew her hands impatiently away, 
— turned from him. The moon shone through the 
thin folds of her gown on either side, and her noble 
h 10 ^ 


114 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


figure was dark between them. Nadrovine followed 
her. 

You will do as I ask, little mother 

“ Why a week ?” she reiterated, turning upon 
him. 

He began to experience that sensation of hopeless 
exasperation which possesses one when questioned 
against one’s will. 

I have said ^ a week,’ ” he answered, controlling 
himself. ‘^It is a short time. This is Tuesday 
night. Next Tuesday night at this hour I will tell 
you.” 

Perhaps I shall not care to know then,” she 
said, harshly. All softness had passed from her face. 
It was as expressionless as an inland lake when no 
wind is stirring. 

“ As you please,” said Nadrovine. He stoo4 
looking down at the sea, with his profile turned 
towards her. The pain of being misunderstood was 
upon him, and that stripped feeling which accom- 
panies any attempt of another, no matter how dear, 
to unveil our holy of holies. 

The sea is the water of youth,” remarked his 
mother, turning abruptly, her voice light and un- 
concerned again. Paris is like Mr. Hyde, and 
the Riviera is like Dr. Jekyll, where one’s health 
is concerned. I feel much younger !” 

They talked of his work and prospects, walking 
up and down in the moonlight until nearly one 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


115 


o’clock, when his mother left him to go to bed. She 
made no allusion to their first topic of conversation, 
but kissed him good-night on the cheek instead of on 
the lips. 

If men realized how their mothers love them, 
there would be a new force in the world. 

Nadrovine, on the contrary, thought his mother 
exacting and lacking in consideration for him. 

He came upon her the next morning shortly after 
sunrise, with little Lotta Boytry at her side. 

An elf, Vladimir !” she called to him, — a 
genuine elf! She is coming to breakfast with me. 
I have promised to have some woodbine for her to 
suck, and some candied violets for an entree. She 
says she can fence, — with a bulrush, no doubt I” 

Oh, Signor Nadrovine,” cried Lotta, if this is 
your maman, I do not wonder you tell charming 
fairy-stories and that Cousine Ilva loves so to hear 
you talk ! She is even more beautiful than you, — 
your maman, I mean, — and she speaks as charm- 
ingly !” 

Who is ^ Cousine Ilva’ ?” said Madame Nadro- 
vine. 

Your buttons are too much to the left. Made- 
moiselle Lotta,” corrected Nadrovine. Draw your 
right shoulder a trifle backward, I pray you.” 

Cousine Ilva,” said Mademoiselle Boutry, — ^^I 
thank you. Signor Nadrovine, — Cousine Ilva is the 
Signorina Demarini. She and Signor Nadrovine, 


IIQ THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

your son, are the greatest of friends. They take long 
rides together, — long, long rides. And talk ! Oh, 
how they talk ! One can hear them when one has 
ridden far ahead, — a sort of murmur like a bee 
caught in a flower, — um-um-um-um. Signor Na- 
drovine used to tell Cousine Ilva stories when she 
was a little, little girl. He called her, ‘ doushka’ then. 
He was ‘The Prince of the Silver Book,^ I feel 
convinced.^^ 

“ Why said Madame Nadrovine. 

“ Because he calls her ‘ doushka.’ 

“ Oh ! So he calls her ‘ doushka’ now ?” 

“Yes, madame.” 

“ And wliat does she say in reply ?” 

“ She looks another way, or says nothing, or says, 
‘ Signor ?’ ” 

“ You observe, do you not, cMrie 

“ I used to observe more than I do now, madame, 
but maman has broken me of it somewhat. When- 
ever I look in the least solemn, she says, ^Qu’as- 
tUy cMrie f As-tu de ho-ho f Miss Herbert says that 
means, in English, ‘ Art thou in the doomps V ” 

“ Thou hast not the ‘ doomps’ this morning, then, 
little one ?” said Madame Nadrovine. 

“ Oh, no !” replied Lotta. 

“And what did you say your cousine Ilva was 
named ?” 

“ She is the Signorina Demarini.” 

“ Demarini ?” repeated Madame Nadrovine. She 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


117 


knit her deeply-modelled brows. Demarini ? And 
your uncle, the Signor Demarini, what is he like?’^ 

I do not know him well. Fanny says that he 
has the nose of a shadow when one holds the candle 
in a wrong position.’^ 

A Roman nose, then 
It has a hump, madame/’ 

How do you know, petite 
‘^By his portrait in Aunt Anita’s locket. But 
his hair, oh, it is lovely ! Like astrachan. So 
black ! so curly ! One would not think of his nose 
again when one had looked at his hair.” 

You are a delightful morsel,” said Madame Ya- 
drovine, — as complete as a little mole on a pretty 
woman’s cheek.” 

^^You have two moles,” said Lotta, composedly, 
‘‘ and of such a lovely brown. They are just like 
little bits of a negro’s skin pasted upon yours. 
Maman had a little negro page one year. He stole 
so much sugar that it gave him some disease and he 
died. He was odious. I prayed not to be glad. 
But it was at Christmas. Le bon Dim had so much 
to attend to that probably he did not listen to me.” 

Why ?” asked Madame Nadrovine for the second 
time. 

Oh, well, because,” replied Mademoiselle 
Boutry, — “because I was glad. He used to bite 
pieces out of my wax dolls and chew them. He 
was very odious. One could not call one’s dolls 


118 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

one’s own, when he was by. Little negroes are 
hateful things. One night maman let me sit up to 
see an eclipse of the moon. It came to me then. 
Little negroes are like eclipses of the stars. We — 
we white children are like real stars, and little 
negroes are like eclipsed stars, — brown, dull and 
horrid. Fancy a heaven of eclipsed stars, mon- 
sieur, with an eclipsed moon for maman! Bah I” 
She galloped ahead a little way. 

wish to chaperon her at her first ball, great 
one,” said Madame Nadrovine over her shoulder. 

“You like arduous tasks,” replied Nadrovine, 
dryly. 

“ Arduous !” exclaimed his mother. “ I should 
like to drive a comet with its tail for reins — that is 
all ! Brilliant ! The child is a fairy, with a diamond 
for a mind. One could write on crystal with it.” 

“ Or glass,” said Nadrovine. 

“Oh, yes, glass,” repeated his mother, — “glass 
made from the ashes of great men and the sands of 
time.” 

“ You will spoil her, small one.” 

“ If I did not, men would. It is always better 
for a woman to be spoiled by women than by men.” 

“ But she is a child, not a woman.” 

“Children are born women in this nineteenth 
century. You hear how she talks ?” 

“Yes; it makes one laugh and shudder at the 
same time.’^ 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


119 


“To say the least, that is a novel sensation. 
One generally combines tears with shuddering, — not 
laughter. Here she comes back again. 

Lotta approached them on her pony, her cheeks 
like the inner lips of conch-shells, her hair riotous 
in the sharp morning wind. 

“ Oh, madame she cried, “ see what a droll 
thing I have found ! A little shell ! So fine ! so 
pretty ! And yet when one holds it in one^s hand 
it puts out horrid claws into one^s palm.” 

“ Throw it away,” advised Madame Nadrovine. 

Lotta regarded it gravely. “Cousine Ilva says 
that there is a lesson in everything,” she remarked. 
“ I have decided already upon this queer creature. 
It is like the cur§ of our village. He is so smooth, 
so quiet on the outside, — his shell, you know, — and 
then as soon as one begins to listen, to really be 
interested, he puts out his claws and scratches one. 
He hints at one^s friends, especially when they are 
sitting in the front row and have new gowns on. 
Marie Dinot had a new cap one Sunday, and a 
blue gown that maman gave her, and he said some 
things — some horrid things — about head-dresses and 
fine apparel. Marie fairly squirmed. I really 
wished to spread my own gown over her, she looked 
so embarrassed ; and really, you know, it was imma- 
terial to me.” 

“ You are a little Samaritan,” remarked Madame 
Nadrovine. 


120 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Oh, I should like to be !’^ said Lotta. “ But 
it is beyond me. Numa Boumestan’^ — she patted 
the pony^s flat and muscular neck — will not carry 
double. I could not take any one on my horse and 
pour oil on him, — not possibly, — because Numa 
would kick so frightfully.’^ 

‘^But you would wish to?” suggested Madame 
Nad ro vine. 

“ Oh, yes, with all my heart. I would ride away 
and get Cousine Ilva, and she would tell me what 
to do.” 

How good this Cousine Ilva must be !” 

There is no one so good, nor so pretty.” 

“Not even I?” asked her new friend. Lotta 
reined in Numa, and shaded her eyes in order to 
observe her carefully. 

“You are not pretty,” she announced, finally. 
“You are like a great picture which has been 
painted many years. Young girls might make you 
look like a picture, — a little pale, you know; but 
you make them look just what they are, — only young 
girls. I say it so badly. One feels you, madame, 
and one sees them. Your hair is so beautiful, like 
purple-beech leaves, and your eyes are the color of 
the moss on which they fall when the wind loosens 
them. Your skin is like a white cloud. It makes 
one think to look at you. When one looks at my 
cousine Ilva, one wishes to know what she thinks.” 

“Your name should be ‘Wonderful,’” said Ma- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 121 

dame Nadrovine. You are the only child that I 
ever coveted/’ 

If one could have two mammas/’ replied Lotta, 
I would pray for you to be my second one.” 

And how old are you?” asked her friend. 
Nine,” answered Lotta, adding, gravely, “ But 
I feel as though I had lived much longer. Other 
children of nine seem Very young to me.” 

I should think so !” murmured Madame Nadro- 
vine. 


XI. 

Lotta found herself seated at a light wicker table, 
facing her new and fascinating acquaintance, with a 
plate of great silverish-blue hot-house grapes before 
her, a gold knife and fork, and a glass of pale- 
yellow wine at her side. 

^^Must I drink this?” she inquired, simply. 

If you wish,” replied Madame Nadrovine. 

The child tasted it and set it down. 

‘‘ It is wine, is it not ?” she asked. I like it.” 

Yes ; it is Tokay.” 

Cousine Ilva does not like wine. That is some- 
thing the color of her hair.” 

Then she is very fair ?” 

Oh, very ! Her eyes are darker than these 

grapes, but her skin is like — like It is whiter 

than yours, madame.” 

And she and my son are great friends ?” 

F 11 


122 the witness of the sun. 

Oh, great ! They ride, read, walk. I will taste 
that wine again, if I may, madame.^^ 

‘^Certainly, cMrie. It is very light, like sun- 
beams. It is good for you. Will you drink my 
health?’’ 

The child lifted the delicate glass to her thin, 
curved red lips. 

May you grow more and more beautiful every 
year, eh^re madame,^^ said she. 

“ And may you increase in wit and in the like- 
ness of Voltaire !” returned Madame Nadrovine, 
bowing over her second glass. 

Who was Voltaire?” asked Lotta, pausing with 
a grape half pressed from its juicy sheath. “ Was 
he the man who said, ‘II y a des fagots et des 
fagots’? Cousine Ilva says that Shakespeare said, 
‘There are men and men,’ before Voltaire said that. 
It was in my last lesson.” 

“ A sound lesson,” said Madame Nadrovine. 

“ It was a very hard one to learn,” replied the child. 

“ Ah, we all find it so,” remarked her friend, 
smiling. “ Will you have some more of my pretty 
wine ?” 

“ Yes, thank you so much. It must be made of 
sunbeams ; it makes me feel like dancing, as they do. 
It seems as if I had a thousand things to tell you 
and as if they ought all to be said at once. I do 
not know where to begin.” She swallowed another 
mouthful of the Tokay. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 123 

‘‘Begin where you wish/’ said Madame Nadro- 
vine. 

Lotta held out her little hands and looked at 
them earnestly. They seemed strangely alive, — to 
have an existence apart from hers. At the same 
time a joyous importance possessed her : she be- 
lieved that the green-eyed lady opposite her would 
attach great meaning to whatever she said and was 
anxious to hear her speak. She nodded her little 
head wisely. “I will tell you something,” she 
announced, in a low voice. “ I have never told it, 
even in my prayers. It is about Signor Nadro- 
vine.” 

“ Indeed ?” said his mother. She replenished the 
glass of Tokay, and then leaned on an indolent white 
elbow, waiting for the child to continue. 

“ Yes, it is about them both, — about Cousine Ilva 

and Signor Nadrovine. It is my belief, madame 

Did I spill that grape-juice on the cloth, madame? 
I trust not. I have been taught never to spill 
things. My little American governess taught me. 
She never spills anything. She is charming. Her 
eyes are of a dark brown, with little three-cornered 
lights in them. But I was not going to talk about 
her ?” She stopped with a slightly dazed expression, 
and put this statement in the form of a question. 

“ It was about my son and your cousine Ilva, was 
it not, chSrie 

“Yes. Why doesn’t Signor Nadrovine come to 


124 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


breakfast? Does he never get hungry? Why did 
he leave us 

“ He wanted to ride longer, I suppose. But the 
great secret which you were going to confide to me, 
petite 

Oh !” said Lotta. She pushed the glass of Tokay 
a little from her, and regarded it seriously, screwing 
her small brows together. Oh ^ she said, again. 
‘‘It is not exactly a secret. An idea. My idea, 
madame. Only an idea of mine. A silly idea, per- 
haps. I think they are in love, like Graciosa and 
Percinet in the fairy-tale. Aunt Anita is like the 
Duchess Grognon. My aunt Anita is Cousine Ilva’s 
mother. She is an American too, but she left her 
beauty in America, she says, with her American 
name. It was Ann. She is Anita in Italy. She 
has a long black tooth in front. It is like one of the 
black keys on a piano-forte, the rest are so white. 
She says the nerve was killed. But she has a great 
many left. She says that they will kill her. They 
go to sleep when she is quiet and reads yellow books, 
but when I play with Zi-Zi and Nicoletta they wake 
up and begin to jump up and down. That is the 
time when Cousine Ilva takes me to the little hill, 
and when Signor Nadrovine comes, and we cut up 
apricots and have feasts and strangle Zi-Zi and Signor 
Nadrovine steals the hair. I saw him. He wound 
it around his finger. I believe Cousine Ilva saw 
him too. She didn’t say anything. But her eyes 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


125 


looked. You know people’s eyes do look. His do, 
— Signor Nadrovine’s, I mean. They look at her 
as if she were an apricot and they wished they had 
teeth, so that they could eat her up. They do, indeed. 
Indeed, indeed they do. Oh, madame, how I am 
talking ! My tongue seems to go of itself. I have 
such a pleasant little aching in my elbows and knees. 
I could ride right into the middle of the sea, and 
I don’t believe it would drown me. I believe it 
would roll up on each side, as it did for the Israel- 
ites. That is the way Mees Herbert does her hair. 
I have often thought the part looked like the path 
through the Red Sea, — it is so red, red^ you know, 
and it is heaped up in siich big waves on either side. 
I imagine that the hair-pins are the Egyptians all 
sunk out of sight in it. And the little steel points 
in her comb are the good Israelites, that have gotten 
safely over. Cousine Ilva says she loathes that comb. 
She used to learn her multiplication-table by looking 
at it, and she never could remember how many of 
those little steel points there were. Sometimes I 
wonder if any one ever called Mees Herbert 
‘doiishka.’ It would be almost like calling Saint 
Cecilia ^Cici,’ or Saint Pierre ^Pierrot,’ would it 
not? Oh, how I talk! Will you forgive me? 
Will you give me just three more grapes? They 
are like the three bears, only they haven’t bears’ 
paws. I don’t know why I said that. It d^g^sn’t 
seem to have much sense. But then wise things 


126 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


don’t seem to have much sense. Those words cut 
in the ring that Cousine Ilva wears around her neck, 
— she showed them to me and explained them, but 
they seemed not to have much meaning to me. Some- 
thing about the sun. It was Latin. I don’t think 
the Latin people could have understood each other 
very well. Perhaps they prayed in French, you 
know, madame. I am sure God speaks French. It 
would seem so unnatural for him to speak 'English, 
or German. He must understand them all, of 
course, but I am sure that he himself speaks in 
French.” 

And the words on the ring were Latin ?” 

‘^Cousine Ilva told me so. She kissed it. It 
was an Italian kiss, no matter what the words are. 
It seems silly to wear a ring on a ribbon. One 
might as well wear one’s shoe on one’s hat. I beg 
you to forgive me, madame. I really feel as if my 
eyes and nose and ears would begin to talk presently. 
I feel so happy, and yet I feel like weeping, too. I 
seem to love you more than any one in the world, 
and then that makes me wish to cry, because there 
is Cousine Ilva, and maman, nnd my dear friend 
Signor Nadrovine. I should have said your dear 
son. Please think I meant your dear son, or merely 
your son, whichever you prefer.” 

Again she lifted the wineglass to her lips. Madame 
NadJ’ovine, still leaning on her elbow, watched her 
lazil}', a smile just lifting the corners of her round 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


127 


lips. She used sometimes to catch dragon-flies bj 
their steel-blue wings and dip them in her wineglass 
until they were quite intoxicated, watching their sub- 
sequent efforts to fly, with just such a flitting smile. 
They would whirr their wings helplessly for a second 
or two, and then deliberately turn their long bodies 
over their heads in a species of leisurely back sum- 
mersault. She had the same sense of amusement 
now in noting the actions and words of the child op- 
posite her, after her fourth glass of Tokay : besides, 
she was learning all that she wished to know, in the 
easiest and most detailed manner. 

So she wears this ring on a ribbon around her 
neck she asked, finally. What color is it, 
cMrie 

‘^The ring, or the ribbon?’^ demanded Lotta, as 
solemnly as though affairs of state depended upon 
the reply. 

The ring.’^ 

The ring is blue, — a black-blue. The ribbon is 
white. ' I asked her why she did not wear it on her 
finger, and she said, ^ Because.’ That was only last 
night. I slept with her. Nini pinched me, and I 
went to Cousine Ilva’s room in the middle of the 
night, and she was sitting up reading her Bible in 
her chemise, and I saw the ring around h 9»^t^-hroat. 
I will have ten rings when I have -"‘^^over, on^" 
each finger, and they must be of ten (^ffere^^biors, 
and I think I will have little bars of mrusic cut on 


128 . the witjsess of the sun. 

them instead of words. Tra ! la ! la ! Tra ! la ! la ! 
Just fancy ! I could hold up my hands and one 
could play a tune on the piano by looking at them. 
Oh, madame, why, why do I say such things ? I 
am not so silly usually, nor impertinent. I talk too 
much, but not so much as I have to-day, and then 
I cannot stop. My mind seems to be running on a 
little track, with steam to push it. If I let it stop, 
it will run off the track and break, or so it seems 
to me. Do you know, madame, I believe my head 
is lined with that lovely yellow wine ? I seem to 
see with the backs of my eyes as well as with the 
fronts of them, and my head is such a lovely pink 
inside, with a lining of that yellow wine. I feel as 
though I must come into your arms and put my 
head just there on that little crease in your bodice. 
I fancy that your heart is under it. I want you to 
love me, madame. I beg you to love me. I beg 
you to tell me that you love me. Oh, I shall be so 
unhappy, so desolated, if you do not say that you 
love me ! And, madame,’’ — she held up a slender 
finger of warning, and fastened her swimming gray 
eyes on those of Nadrovine’s mother, — ‘^and, ma- 
dame,” she repeated, “ you must mean it. I could 
not bfar it if you did not mean it. It would be 
nothipig*''c>i I would weep indeed. Oh, I feel 
aj^-^-^hough tli($t^^.vere a whole ocean behind my eyes 
waitings- to tirn into tears at the first cross word.” 
She droppetf her little, dark head on the table. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


129 


nearly into her plate, and fenced it about with her 
small fingers. Oh ! oh she sobbed, do not let 
any one be harsh to me ! I could not bear it ! I 
could not bear it ! Oh, I do not mean to weep ! 
Why, why is it? I do not cry easily. No one has 
been harsh to me ; and I do so wish to be silent. 
Why is it that I talk on and on ? Oh, if you would 
— only love me, madame 

Madame Nadrovine rose, biting her lips, and drew 
the airy figure into her arms. 

There, there !’’ she said, soothingly. She adored 
children, and this one was peculiarly adorable. She 
pressed her very close, and nipped the little, moist 
cheek with her strong lips. There, there she 
repeated, “ I do love you. You are a little darling. 
I wish you were mine. You are the dearest little 
dark-light in all the world. Your hair is like a 
mass of sun-rays that have been turned black for 
shining on naughty things. Your little mouth would 
woo a woman from thoughts of her lover. You are 
a little love, love, love,^^ she crooned, rocking the 
distressed elf caressingly and singing the words to a 
minor air. My little love, love, love. And I love 
you with all my heart. There, now, go to sleep. 
There, now, go to sleep. Go to sleep.’^ She rocked 
her back and forth unceasingly, chanting the word 
sleep’’ in various keys, until the child was actually 
sleeping on her breast. Then she loosened her arms, 
and looked down at the slight relaxed figure in its 


130 the witness of the sun. 

pearl-gray riding-habit, stretched limply across her 
knees. She lifted one of the little half-curled hands 
and kissed its pale-rose palm twice, with soft, long 
kisses. The child’s hair was damp, and matted 
upon her forehead. Madame Nadrovine lifted it, 
and fanned the warm brow with a crumpled napkin. 
Lotta slept on undisturbed. Her relaxed lips formed 
a piteous arch, her slightly-marked, delicate brows 
twitched • uneasily with her dreams. She moved 
abruptly now and then, and tossed her slender 
limbs about. 

Madame Nadrovine smiled again, shook her head, 
and drew the parted lips together in a really tender kiss. 

May you never be intoxicated with anything 
more dangerous than Tokay, you witchling !” she 
muttered. 

Nadrovine entered, and found her bending over 
the child, who still slept heavily. He came towards 
them, looking anxious.. 

Asleep ?” he said. What is wrong ? Asleep 
at this time in the morning ? I fear she isn’^ell. 
She looks like a delicate little thing.” 

A little body and a great deal of soul,” answered 
his mother, smiling again. But she may have ex- 
hausted herself. She insisted on keeping up with 
me in all my gallops.” 

No doubt that is it,” assented Nadrovine. But 
she is as white as her collar. What will you do 
with her?” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


131 


I shall order a trap of some kind and drive 
with her at once to the Villa Demarini,” she replied, 
serenely. 

Nadrovine stooped to pick up her napkin, which 
had fallen near his feet. 

I will drive you,” he said. 

But do not look so worried, Vladimir. She is 
only tired, I am sure. An hour’s nap will refresh 
her absolutely. You see how quietly she sleeps ?” 

Is it natural for sleeping children to be so pale ?” 

Sometimes.” 

“Well, no doubt you know much better than I, 
but I will confess that I don’t like that ghastly 
pallor. A trap will be at the door in ten minutes.” 

He left the room, and his mother sat silently, still 
rocking the sleeping child, and smiling to herself 
from time to time, with her eyes on the sea beyond. 

XII. 

Madame Nadrovine got into the phaeton without 
changing her habit, still holding Lotta in her arms. 
She tilted the chjld’s hat above her face, in order to 
prevent the white morning light from disturbing her. 
Nadrovine drove the little chestnut cobs in silence, 
wondering less regarding this whim of his mother’s 
than as to how much Lotta had revealed to her. 
The sea had that air of freshness which convinces 
one that it has just been created, — a long sparkle 
of cold blue against a belt of fawn-brown sand, like 


132 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


a band of sapphires against the skin of a mulatto. 
One felt the unsunned wind between one’s eyelids 
in a cool kiss, sweet with opening flowers as the hair 
of a woman moist with sleep. The moon floated 
overhead, a shred of light on the dark cobalt of the 
sky. There were clouds near the horizon, small 
pufis of silver-white and green-gray. This cool, 
trembling morning, however, signified a hot noon. 
It was as full of the promise of mid-day as a girl’s 
kiss of the passion of womanhood. One knew that 
four hours later the moon would have melted from 
sight, that the sea would plunge heavily in waves 
as of oil, that the crisp wind would sink to a sultry 
sigh along the hot, steaming sands, and that to look 
at the copper dome of the sky would cause one about 
as much pleasure as to write an ode to the Queen of 
the Salamanders on an August afternoon in Tangiers. 

In the Villa Demarini no one seemed awake. 
There was a gardener’s boy training the geraniums 
on one of the terraces, and a black caniche seriously 
regarding the . sea with ears erect. He was so ab- 
sorbed in his contemplation that he did not even 
bark as the phaeton drove up. 

The gardener’s boy, however, dropped his shears, 
and came somewhat sheepishly to hold the horses 
while Nadrovine got down and extended his arms 
for Lotta. 

But what is one to do ?” asked his mother, making 
no movement to resign the child to him, and looking 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. ]33 

up at the closed blinds. One can’t leave the poor 
mouse on the veranda, and yet one doesn’t wish to 
rouse the whole house.” 

The gardener’s boy touched his hat. 

“Gracious madam,” said he, with a glutinous 
German accent, “the young gentlemen are awake, 
but they are hiding for fear that the young lady is 
killed. They stopped to talk to some boys on the 
shore, and the Fraulein galloped away. They 
thought that perhaps she was drowned. The Frau- 
lein Ilva was bathing, and I told her. She rode 
off on Herr Georges’s pony. She has been gone 
half an hour. No one else is awake. The Frau- 
lein and her brothers ride always alone at this hour 
in the morning.” 

“ In what direction did the Signorina Ilva go ?” 
asked Nadrovine, quickly. 

“ Towards the village, mein Herr. Shall I awaken 
the nurse-maid ?” 

“Suppose we drive towards the village and try 
to meet her?” suggested Nad ro vine to his mother. 
“ She must have turned back by this time.” 

Just at this moment the short strokes of a pony’s 
legs sounded on the gravel, and Ilva approached 
them, her gown of pale-blue gingham modelled 
damply to her shoulders and arms, her thick hair 
uncoiling at her throat, hatless, gloveless, even shoe 
less, in her haste. She was paler than Lotta, and 
her lips quivered. Nadrovine lifted her from the 
12 


134 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


pony without even greeting her, and assisted her 
into the phaeton beside his mother. She could not 
speak, but put her hand on Lotta’s little body and 
began to draw deep breaths, the color running 
gradually back into lips and cheeks. 

I am afraid you have been sadly frightened,” said 
Madame Nadrovine, at last. It was very thought- 
less of me to keep the child, but she fascinated me so 
that I was scarcely responsible. She is a perfect 
little Rosalind with a Titania’s body, and of such 
a charming order of beauty.” 

This is my mother, signorina,” said Nadrovine. 

I — I — thank you !” replied the girl, and then 
blushed intensely. mean, I am most happy to 
know you, madame ! Signor Nadrovine has spoken 
much about you. Will you tell me how you found 
her? Was she thrown? Is she unconscious, or 
only asleep? Her mother worships her so. It 
would have killed her.” 

Oh, I think she is merely exhausted,” answered 
Madame Nadrovine. If she could be undressed 

without waking her ” 

^^What is all this?” cried a voice behind them. 
^^Has anything happened to the child?” A tall 
figure approached, — the figure of a man with closely- 
curling dark hair, soaked from his sea-bath, a large, 
aquiline nose finely cut, clear lips, pale but hand- 
some, and the complexion of a seckel pear. 

Madame Nadrovine !” he exclaimed. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


135 


“Myself, count, she replied, bowing slightly. 
Her eyes wore an amused expression above her 
grave mouth. 

“ Dear papa,^’ said II va, “ will you lift Lotta out 
and carry her up-stairs ? I would like to put her to 
bed before Aunt Cecilia wakes.” 

Her father held out his arms mechanically, and 
Madame Nadrovine lifted Lotta^s little limp form 
upon them. 

“ Do not jar her, count,” she enjoined. There 
were veiled sparkles of mischief in her verdant eyes 
as she watched him ascend the steps of the veranda 
with the sleeping child in his arms. 

“ Will you not have a glass of wine, madame ?” 
asked Ilva, somewhat nervously, as her father disap- 
peared. She was painfully conscious of her dishev- 
elled appearance in contrast with the complete attire 
of the woman in the black habit and top-hat. She 
felt that those eyes, with their jade-colored high lights, 
were taking her in from head to foot, and that her 
damp gingham gown was attracting their criticism. 

“ I will get you a glass of wine myself,” she re- 
peated, vaguely. 

Madame Nadrovine made a gesture of negation 
with her handsome, ungloved hand. 

“ Thanks !” she replied. “ I have had my grapes 
and cofPee, and also a glass of Tokay. I fear we are 
detaining you, mademoiselle. We will call again to 
ask after the little Lotta.” 


136 


' THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


^^You will have nothing?’’ asked Ilva, disap- 
pointed in spite of herself. It will not take a mo- 
ment. My aunt will wish to thank you.” 

Nothing will afford me more pleasure than to 
give her another opportunity,” rejoined Madame 
Nadrovine, graciously. She made a few more 
amiable remarks, and was driven off by her son 
just as Count Demarini appeared on the veranda, 
having consigned Lotta to her nurse. 

^‘This afternoon,” Nadrovine had whispered to 
II va as he passed her to get into the phaeton. Her 
heart was throbbing with emotions as contradictory 
as strange, when her father ran hurriedly down the 
steps and put his hand on her shoulder. 

^‘How long have you known Madame Nadro- 
vine ?” he asked, abruptly. 

II va lifted to him her frankly surprised eyes. 

What a coincidence that you should know her 
so well, papa!” she said. ‘^I have met her this 
morning for the first time. How beautiful she is ! 
It is almost unearthly. Her eyes are like a Lo- 
relei’s, so green and liquid, — just the tint in a 
hollowing wave. Where did you know her, papa?” 

She has been the beauty of Paris for two seasons. 
Is she to be here long? I thought her in Hom- 
bourg.” 

“ She is to spend the summer with Signor Nadro- 
vine, her son. How absurd, papa, that she should 
have a son as old as that I She looks like his elder 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


137 


sister. What strange, strange eyes ! All the green 
lights of heaven and earth seem to shine in them 
alternately, — the light of water, of grass, of glow- 
worms, of stars, of lightning, of peacocks’ breasts, 
•of precious stones. But, dear papa, I have not said 
^ how do you do ?’ to you. I sat up very late last 
night to welcome you, but they said that the train 
was three hours late, and so I went to bed. Have 
you been here long ?” 

^^An hour, — two hours, perhaps. What is the 
matter with the child?” 

“ With Lotta ?” 

Yes.” 

“I do not know. Nothing serious, I am sure. 
Madame Nadrovine said that it was probably ex- 
haustion.” 

She was rather in awe of her father, but took his 
hand and kissed it shyly, while he stood silent, pull- 
ing the ears of the caniche, who was fawning upon 
him with wriggling body and lapping tongue. 

He smiled absently and stroked her cheek and 
throat. He was proud of her beauty and talents, 
but utterly unfamiliar with herself. She was a 
school-girl still, and he might as well have tried to 
take interest in an expurgated edition of the poets. 

“ Dear 'papa, it seems so long since I have seen 
you !” she said, in a low voice. She pressed timidly 
against him, feeling the need of parental love to 
complete the love of the lover. Her mother was 


138 the witness of the sun. 

the last person in the world from whom she would 
have sought sympathy, either openly or surrepti- 
tiously, but her father, though seldom at home, and 
rarely noticing her, was always amiable on those 
occasions when he did condescend to pay her some 
little attention. As for the girl, she loved him with 
that blind and idealized affection which imaginative 
people sometimes bestow on those whom custom bids 
them revere, regardless of circumstances. His slight 
caress thrilled her very heart’s core, and she longed 
to hide her face on his knees and tell him of her 
love for Nadrovine and ask his approval. She was 
frightened at the wonderful reality which life had 
suddenly assumed. All her past seemed receding, 
like a chaos of dreams from which one has been 
roused by a fall. She longed for some one to assure 
her that other women had given themselves, their 
ambitions, their ideas, their hopes, as utterly as she 
had done. 

You love me, papa ?” she said, impulsively, look- 
ing down at his hand which she still held, that he 
might not see the tears which blurred her eyes. He 
started. A tear had fallen on his hand. Ilva wiped 
it hurriedly away with one of her own. 

‘^Love you, my little Silverhair? Why, of 
course! Why are you crying? Is Miss Herbert 
harsh ? I must speak to her.” 

No, no, papa,” said the girl. 

“Then what is it? Why do you cry?” His 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 139 

voice had an impatient ring, which she detected 
instantly in spite of her agitation. 

Lotta ! it was Lotta she hastened to assure 
him, I was so alarmed about her. I wondered 
if you or — or mamma would be so much grieved 
if I were to be hurt, — to die, perhaps. Oh, papa, 
do not notice me ! I am very silly. I am thor- 
oughly unnerved. I expected to come across the 
poor little thing lying dead at every corner that I 
turned.” 

Poor little cat !” said her father, fondling her 
shoulder. Too bad ! too bad ! I must speak to 
Cecilia about letting the children ride alone. There, 
now ! go and change your clothes, my dear, and lie 
down. Have you a book to read ? There is Feuil- 
let^s ^ Roman d^un jeune Homme pauvre:^ you are 
old enough to read that, I should think. It has an 
excellent moral. It ought to be in the library, on 
the second shelf of the bookcase, near the door. Or 
‘ I Promessi Sposi you might read that. Tell 
your mother that you have my permission.” 

Thank you,” said the girl, biting her lips to 
repress a smile. Evidently her father did not know 
that since she could first read she might have perused 
every book in the house without fear of interruption. 

Thank you, papa,” she repeated, and began to walk 
slowly away in the direction of the house. They 
had been standing near the edge of the terrace. 

Count Demarini called on Madame Nadrovine 


140 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


that afternoon, to take her the heart-felt thanks of 
Lotta^s mother and his wife, who were both too 
much overcome by the child’s still somnolent inclina- 
tions to appear in person. They were afraid of sun- 
stroke, and sat all day fanning the slumberer, one on 
each side of her little bed, with expressions of con- 
trolled apprehension. 

Madame Nadrovine was alone when the footman 
announced Demarini, teaching Scud to sing, by 
striking dismal chords on a mandolin and pulling 
his ear to accentuate the torture. 

^^How is the poor little one?” she said, placing 
the mandolin on the floor at her side, and resuming 
her rings, which she had taken off to facilitate the 
singing-lesson. 

Demarini seated himself opposite her, fondling 
tho fox-terrier’s head much as he had fondled that 
of his daughter during the past morning. He kept 
his eyes on Madame Nadrovine’s hands, while she 
kept hers upon his downcast lids. 

They fear a sunstroke,” he replied. 

Ah ! bah !” shrugged she, what a thing it is 
to have children ! What cowards they make of one ! 
The child was worn out.” 

‘^Yes, probably,” assented Demarini. He re- 
turned her compelling gaze presently. 

thought you were in Hombourg?” he said, 
under his breath. 

She lifted her brows until there were two or three 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 141 

fine wrinkles in her smooth forehead, tuning the 
mandolin meanwhile to another key. 

^^And so I was. What would you have? One 
can’t stay in one place forever ?” 

One could,” said Demarini, uncertainly, if one 
were permitted,” he added, in a low voice. 

‘^One could do numberless things if one were 
permitted,” replied Madame Nadrovine. 

Again Demarini looked at her, — a flashing look. 
It lit up his swarthy face like the gleam from- an 
almost - extinguished fire on the ceiling of a dark 
room. 

Do you think I knew you were here ?” he asked. 

I ? Oh, it is much too warm to think. Besides, 
coincidences fill up every inexplicable gap in life.” 

You know that I would not have come when it 
was not your wish. I would not have called ,this 
afternoon save to explain my presence in your neigh- 
borhood.” 

She made him a little bow, full of mockery and 
a teasing amusement. 

I am in your debt, monsieur.” 

He half started to his feet. 

^^You are not angry? You do not bid me go, 
Sereda ?” 

Pardon me, count, I took a slight cold in sleep- 
ing near an open window on my way from Hom- 
bourg. It has made me a little deaf. Will you 
have the kindness to repeat that last sentence ?” 


142 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


He stood before her, grasping his hat in both 
hands, the veins in his temples swelling. 

You know that I love you to madness,^’ he said, 
controlling himself. have called you by your 

name before. You know that I had rather be 
laughed at by you than caressed by any other. You 
own me absolutely, body and soul.^^ 

^^And you own a charming daughter. She is 
like a young Psyche, a Psyche who will never 
make the mistake of dropping hot oil on her 
Cupid. She will peep at him by moonlight or the 
reflection of a star in a mirror. But that damp 
blue cotton gown was as charming on her pretty 
bust as a peplos.” 

Do you tell me to go 

My dear Demarini, if I told you to go you would 
assuredly stay.^^ 

I would do what you told me.’^ 

Do what you wish, I pray you.’^ 

You are ungenerous.^’ 

I have tried to overcome that fault in vain.” 

You torture me?” 

Your endurance is that of a hero.” 

You know that I only live for your pleasure.” 

I fear that your sacriflce is vain.” 

Sereda !” 

I beg of you, monsieur. My name is not ugly 
enough to be picturesque. There is an English 
rhyme that I remember : 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 143 

“ ‘ Call me Daphne, call me Chloris, 

Call me Lalage or Doris.’ 

There are four names to choose from. Any substi- 
tute will do.” 

Demarini missed an excellent opportunity by his 
lack of knowledge. With what an air he could 
have finished the quotation, “Only, only call me 
thine !” 

Madame Nadrovine had taken an unfair advan- 
tage of his ignorance of English. 

He could only repeat himself passionately : 

“ But you do not tell me to go ? You do not tell 
me to leave Italy ? Oh ! que je mis fou I Que je 
vous adore ! Que je vous adore 

He caught the loose sleeve of her gown and pressed 
it against his lips. 

“It is not yet paid for,” she laughed, regarding 
him lazily. “It is the property of F^lix that you 
are caressing.” 

• “You wear it : that is sufficient. Why do you 
always mock me ?” 

“ That I may not be mocked myself.” 

“You do not hate me?” 

“ I have not capacity for so extreme an exertion.” 

“ And I may call upon you ?” 

“ If you will take the chance of finding me out 
when you call.” 

“ It is enough to live under the same constellations 
that shine above you.” 


144 the witness of the sun. 

“ And what when it is cloudy ?” 

It is better to share clouds with you than sun- 
shine with another/’ 

You deserve something for that speech.” 

What ? what, Sereda ?” 

kind message to take back in regard to the 
little Lotta. Say that I will call to-morrow after- 
noon to drive her in my phaeton. And now I must 
pray you to excuse me,” she concluded, looking at a 
little watch which hung from a thread-like bracelet 
on her left arm. have only three-quarters of 

an hour in which to make my toilet for dinner. 
Say to the little one that I love her dearly and await 
our next interview with impatience.” 

She took a cigarette from her case, after extend- 
ing it to Demarini, who extracted one eagerly with 
trembling fingers, and lighted it unconcernedly as 
he left the room. He saw her slightly smiling face, 
with its placid, downcast lids, in the pale light of 
the fuse, as he glanced back at her before letting the_ 
folds of the portiere, fall between them. Scud had 
jumped up in her lap, and was lapping her smooth 
chin with his thin pink tongue. 

^^The little beast!” said Demarini, shutting his 
teeth hard on the last word. He had the aversion 
of most men to seeing a pet dog in contact with a 
woman, and when that woman was the object of the 
sincerest folly of his life it became insupportable. 
He would have wrung the dog’s neck without the 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 145 

slightest compunction, could he have been sure of 
remaining undiscovered. 

XIII. 

No sooner had Demarini left the house than Ma- 
dame Nadrovine’s whole aspect changed entirely. 
She threw the just-lighted cigarette from her, and 
watched it smoke of itself on the red tiles of the 
floor, holding either arm of her chair and caressing 
her under lip with her tongue, in absolute absorp- 
tion, Scud touched the half-extinguished cigarette 
with his inquisitive black nose, and sprang back 
uttering a short howl of pain, to seek protection in 
the skirts of his mistress. She stroked his dapper 
little head absently, her great eyes fixed on the floor 
a yard or two beyond. 

I have it. Scud she exclaimed, finally. It 
is as clear as your eyes, my beauty She hugged 
him in the nook of her arm as though he had been 
a child, and he cuddled up to her, making little wet 
noises of pleasure with his fiexible tongue. 

We shall see what he will have to tell me next 
Tuesday, little sleek one ! Now kiss my ear because 
I have confided in you, petit 

Scud saluted the salmon-pink ear turned to him, 
with rapturous iteration. He looked into her face 
precisely as if he understood everything, and then 
pushed a soft paw into her cheek as a baby pushes 
its soft hand. He was an exceedingly human little 

Q k 13 


146 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


beast. Madame Nadrovine felt as though she had 
really confided her plan to an approving friend. She 
kissed the little dog twice on the top of his smooth 
head, and then put him down from her lap. 

The next day she called again at the Villa Dema- 
rini, to inquire after Mademoiselle Boutry. Ilva 
was the first to enter the drawing-room. She had 
on a Roman shirt, and her bare throat rose charm- 
ingly from its loose folds. Madame Nadrovine 
noted the extreme beauty of her slight hands and 
wrists. Her blond hair was arranged loosely in a 
strange coiffure : one could not tell where it began 
or ended. It looked as though her head were cased 
in a helmet of silverish gold. Lotta seems quite 
herself to-day,’’ she said, adding, half awkwardly, 
She seems also in love with you, madame.” 

I fear, then, that she is fickle, mademoiselle,” 
smiled Nadrovine’s mother. ‘^Yesterday she was 
your ardent slave.” 

Sensitive children are always won by beauty,” 
replied Ilva, and then flushed, feeling that she had 
said something bluntly flattering. 

How gauche ! how utterly unsophisticated !” said 
Madame Nadrovine to herself. ‘^But she has a 
wonderful profile, — like those on old coins. And 
what a figure ! — the hips of a girl and the breast 
of a goddess !” 

Ilva, wishing to appear at her best, naturally ap- 
peared at her worst. Madame Nadrovine left, won- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 147 

dering what Vladimir saw in the child beyond that 
beauty of youth which the adored and the adorer so 
soon outgrow. 

She called to Nadrovine that evening as he was 
returning with the pressure of the girfs lips yet 
pulsing upon his. 

He approached slowly. She was pulling the dried 
leaves from some heliotrope-plants, her purplish-black 
hair falling in a heavy plait far below her waist. 
Some of the violet heliotrope-branches were thrust 
through the girdle of yellow brocade. 

I called at the Villa Demarini this morning, 
Vladimir,’^ she said, without pausing in her occupa- 
tion. ^‘The little one has quite recovered. And I 
saw that pretty young girl again. . She is as adorably 
lovely as she is deplorably silly.^^ 

Silly, small one?’^ asked Nadrovine, with a smile 
whose complaisance goaded his mother to a frown. 

In what did her silliness consist 

Oh, as for that, I do not recall exactly. It was 
the general impression. But, of course, if she is not 
silly in your eyes I accept your judgment, you have 
known her so much longer than I have.^’ 

Since she was a child of ten,’^ replied Nadrovine. 
Indeed said his mother. She drew down a 
yellow rose which drooped from a trellis overhead, 
and began stripping it of its blighted outer leaves^ 
^^It is strange what opposite impressions different 
people make on different people.’’ 


148 the witness of the sun. 

Yes ; I have thought that,” admitted Nadrovine. 

His mother changed the conversation with her 
usual unfailing tact. An hour later they were 
dining alone together, the last flush of sunset striking 
across the silver and glass of the dinner-table and 
firing Madame Nadrovine’s thick hair. 

I suppose you have heard of Neivensky’s mar- 
riage ?” she said, holding her interlaced hands about 
her small claret-glass. “ Of course it will be the end 
of his career.” 

Why ?” asked Nadrovine. He was thinking of 
that last look in Ilva’s eyes, — a look of intense love 
and pleading. fear your mother does not like 
me. Try to make her like me,” she had said to 
him. She had held him from her except for that 
last kiss. I feel that she would not wish it,” she 
had whispered. And she had agreed with him that 
it was best not to tell either his mother or her own 
until a week had passed. 

It would be so much to happen all at once. I 
will be so thankful to have my heart beat quietly 
for a little while.” Those were her words at parting. 
He had not touched her, except to take from her that 
one kiss, not yet the kiss of a lover, — she lifted her 
lips so frankly. He could not bear to rouse her 
from her ethereal dreams. She would only love him 
more when she comprehended. 

Why ?” he repeated. 

Oh, it goes without saying,” answered his mother. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


149 


She is a little country-girl, — as lovely as one’s 
dream of a cool brook in summer, but so ignorant 
of everything, even of love, which she undoubtedly 
possesses in great quantities.” 

You have seen her, then ?” said Nadrovine. 

“ Twice. Her eyes were glued on him, and she 
spoke to one without turning her head. If there 
could be as many babies as disillusions during the 
next six years, perhaps they' might be happy.” 

Do you think the only hope of married people 
lies in their offspring ?” 

In those cases where men of genius marry com- 
monplace women, I do, most assuredly.” 

And what when men of genius marry women of 
genius ?” 

One might as well say, ^ Hoav if man’s inclina- 
tions and Heaven’s decrees ran in the same direc- 
tion ?’ or, ^ What if love were ever given by two 
people in like proportion ?’ I must say, Vladimir, 
that outside of your novels your remarks are the 
reverse of sagacious. If men of genius were to 
marry women of genius, the story of the garden of 
Eden would sink into insignificance, and one would 
accept the grave cheerfully as the consummation of 
such an existence, smiling at the idea of a heaven 
where there is no marriage nor giving in marriage.” 

But you believe in the marriage of true minds ?” 
ventured her son. 

It is a union as vague as that of Saint Cecilia 
13 * 


150 the witness of the sun. 

and her heavenly lover, — who, by the way, permit- 
ted her to be beheaded! After all, those celestial 
unions invariably end by one of the participants 
losing their heads: do you not think so?’^ She 
smiled provokingly with her long eyes, and reached 
for a bunch of grapes, holding back her sleeve with 
one supple hand. 

I think it depends,’^ said Nadrovine, beginning 
to realize that the task of breaking his engagement 
to his mother would not be an easy one. It de- 
pends upon the people,^^ he continued ; and also 
upon what one considers a ^ celestial union.’ ” 

Oh, that is easy enough to explain !” exclaimed 
Madame Nadrovine. It is where souls are chiefly 
mentioned and bodies are regarded as mere accidents ; 
where love-looks are more than kisses, and words 
than hand-pressures. These are the wings of love. 
Lovers amuse themselves in pulling them off, as little 
boys find occupation in maiming flies. When this 
is accomplished and love is left crawling, they forget 
that it once had wings, and speak of it as though 
it had been always the mere grub that it now ap- 
pears.” 

That is not your real idea of love, I am sure, 
small one,” said Nadrovine, with a sudden grip of 
revulsion which he conquered at once. “ Pure love 
sanctifies the body which it inhabits. And its wings 
grow stronger with each effort to fly, — like the wings 
of a young bird. A true man cherishes each feather 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


151 


of the wings of love, instead of attempting to pluck 
them out. You have some reason for wishing to 
tease me : is it not so 

His mother lifted her brows slightly without look- 
ing at him. It is true, then, that you believe what 
you say in your books regarding love 
Why should you think otherwise 
Merely because you have lived nine-and-twenty 
years in the world, and that most people who have 
lived that length of time have seen it that it is not 
good.^’ 

There may be good love in a bad world, may 
there not, dear small one 

“ There w^ould be more probability of bad love in 
a good world.’^ She stopped in her reckless speech, _ 
noting his chilled expression, to rise and droop over 
him with her exquisite grace of motherhood. 

^‘How seriously you take my frivolous chatter, 
dear great one!’’ she said, letting her lips move 
against his cheek in forming these words. ‘^Of 
course there is good love, — the love of all mothers 
for their children, — my love for you !” 

This short conversation served to show her how 
completely in earnest he was. There was that serious- 
ness of speech and manner which only accompanies 
a great and sincere passion. There would not be the 
slightest use in arguing with him : of that she was 
convinced absolutely and at once. Any frustration 
of what she chose to consider this disastrous affair 


152 the witness of the sun. 

must depend upon her, and upon her alone. She 
was quite determined, and the next time that Dema- 
rini called he found her in. She laughed at him, 
it is true, and lashed him unmercifully with her 
steely wit, but she did not forbid him to repeat his 
visit, and she consented to ride with him on the fol- 
lowing afternoon. They met her son, his daughter, 
and Lotta on their way home. 

How lovely, how lovely your mother is sighed 
the girl. ^^But something tells me that she will 
never like me.’^ 

“ She has only to know you,” said Nadrovine. 

But it will be so hard for me to let her know 
me, feeling that she has an antipathy for me.” 

Nadrovine smiled with the perfect confidence of 
a man thoroughly in love regarding his lady’s powers 
of charming. 

You smile because you think that I am ex- 
aggerating,” said Ilva ; but I feel such an absolute 
conviction that it is more serious than you think.” 

They were walking down the old rose-garden 
towards the sea. She had changed her habit for a 
gown of thin, soft, white stuff which fell in supple 
plaits close to her slight limbs. There was an old- 
silver girdle about her waist, and she had pulled a 
branch of blush-roses diagonally through it. The 
pink flowers were reflected faintly in the dull silver. 
A band of the same metal held her elastic hair in 
place, but it was loosened above her eyes, which 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. • I53 

were the color of the sea at twilight, under her 
clear brows. Lotta was some way in front of them, 
absorbed in her dolls and Gaulois the caniche. 

I feel that it is serious,’^ said Ilva, raising her 
eyes to his. ^*1 feel that I can never make her 
like me.’^ 

“But, doushka, you have seen her how many 
times ? — once, is it not 

“ And, oh ! I was so embarrassed, I could think 
of nothing. I stammered, I said everything wrong. 
She must have thought me quite a little fool ; and 
I could see even in that short time that to be foolish 
was the worst of all in her eyes. Generally I am 
so calm. I have never known what it is to feel ill 
at ease.” 

“ You were too anxious, my princess.” 

“ Yes, perhaps that was it. But I have spoiled 
everything.” 

“ You have spoiled me,” smiled Nadrovine. 

“ In what way ? What do you mean ?” 

“ Why, all faces are so meaningless to me since I 
have seen yours. The world is so empty where you 
are not. It makes my heart beat just to think of 
your eyes, and to remember your lips ” 

He drew her to him by her slight wrists. 

“ Dear heart, why do you tremble ?” 

“ You are trembling too,” she whispered. 

“ It is because I love you so much.” 

“And I ” 


154 • I'HE witness of the sun 

Divide my love by all the stars of Italy, and 
perhaps yours will be half of that.” 

Multiply your love by every snow-flake that has 
ever fallen in Russia, and perhaps it will equal one- 
tenth of mine.” 

He released her wrists and took her gently but 
strongly into his arms. Her lovely blond head leaned 
back against his breast, her lips were parted, her eyes 
fastened upon his. A sweet, intense pallor swept her 
face from brow to chin. She felt the deep throbbing 
of his heart beneath her cheek. 

Ilva,” he said, I have never kissed you as a 
man kisses the woman whom he loves above all 
others, and who has promised to become his wife. 
Will you let me give you that kiss of kisses? It 
will make you mine forever. No ceremony, no words 
of man, could seal you to me more entirely, my little 
one, my poet, my wife. Will you give me your lips 
as a sign that you have given me your heart and your 
soul ?” 

She did not answer him, but neither did she at- 
tempt to draw away. He felt the slight, quivering 
arms press him a little closer, and then he bent his 
face upon hers. She sank down weeping from that 
controlled yet masterful caress, the tears of a young 
girl who feels that she has given her past and future 
irrevocably into the hands of another, and who knows 
that she can never be entirely her own again, in this 
world or in any world above. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. I55 

I love you, I love you,’’ was all that Nadroviue 
could win from her in reply to his entreaties and 
self-reproaches. no! you have done nothing. 

You have not wounded me. I — I love you more 
than ever. But there is something gone, — something 
that can never be the same. We can never live over 
the last half-hour again. Oh, how awkwardly I say 
it ! I feel the same, and yet different. It is like 
these roses in my belt. They are roses, but their 
stems have been broken ; they have been gathered.” 
She cried softly, hiding her face in her hands and 
leaning it against his breast. 

My rose, whom I will wear forever,” he whis- 
pered, pressing the small head against him. When 
she looked up at last, he drew the sign of the cross 
in her own tears upon her lips. 

“ They are doubly mine now,” he said, with the 
smile which she thought like light. She reached up, 
drew down his head, and kissed him of her own 
accord, timidly, upon both eyes. 

It was Tuesday afternoon. 

XIV. 

On his way home, Nadrovine recalled the fact that 
he had promised to reveal to his mother this night 
the history of his missing ring. The recollected 
clasp of Ilva’s arms about his body seemed to give 
him strength, and he determined to announce his en- 
gagement as soon as he entered his mother’s boudoir. 


156 THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

He ran up the shallow steps easily, noiselessly, smiling 
to himself. He imagined the scene that would follow 
his disclosure ; but it was almost pleasant to think 
of enduring even such pangs for the sake of his 
lady. He lifted the portiere softly and paused on 
the threshold, seeing that Count Demarini was seated 
near his mother, talking earnestly. No doubt they 
were speaking on the very subject which he had 
intended to broach. He hesitated. For an instant 
her eyes seemed to rest on him, but he felt that he 
was mistaken, for she returned at once to her con- 
versation with Count Demarini, more absorbedly 
than before. She had a great nosegay of roses and 
heliotrope in her hand, and laughed as she pressed 
them against Demarini’s nostrils, hiding his whole 
face. Her gown, of a curious dull-green silk, had 
gold threads through it, which caught the light. 
Her black hair made a shadowy haze about the 
rich pallor of her face. Nadrovine was pierced by 
her beauty and the luxurious grace of her sidelong 
posture. 

He saw Demarini seize the wrist of the hand which 
held the bunch of roses, tear the roses from it, and 
dash them upon the floor, at the same time drawing 
her down into his arms. She rested against him, 
her lips upon his. It was a long, silent kiss. 

Nadrovine loosened the portiere, and it resumed 
its heavy folds without a sound. 

It must be nearly eight o’clock. Time to dress 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 157 

for dinner,” he said, aloud. He took out his watch 
and looked at it, walking slowly along the cool hall 
to the room where he usually smoked. There were 
no candles lighted yet, and the afternoon glow fell 
dimly through the swaying white curtains. He went 
and leaned against one of the arched windows. 

The individuality of inanimate objects began to 
impress him, — the indifference of the sea, the self- 
satisfaction of white sails moving placidly further 
and further towards the citrine west. A branch of 
small white flowers near him seemed vain of their 
beauty, in their tremulous tossings back and forth. 
There was an impassive stolidity about earth and 
sky which irritated him. He heard two servants 
laughing in the shrubbery on one side, and felt that 
they had been wilfully impertinent. Twilight de- 
scended gradually, like the ceasing of a dream. The 
sky was alternately a» faded blue, a deep indigo, a 
black-violet in which the gathering stars vibrated 
glow-worm green, yellow of tigers^ eyes, red of 
cactus-flowers, the silver of frost in moonlight. 

He stood there until darkness had formed densely 
over land and water, and a servant entered bringing 
candles. Take them away,” he said. Gloom again 
surrounded him. He was thinking of his childhood, 
— recalling the folk-lore in which his mother was so 
learned, and which she used to repeat to him in her 
charming voice; the quaint airs which she used to 
sing to him, and in which he fancied he heard the 
]4 


158 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


barking of wolves, the breaking of horses’ feet through 
the crust of the snow, the cry of the child tossed out 
as a sacrifice for the others in the quickly-gliding 
sleigh. He saw his mother upon his father’s knee, 
her black hair mingling with his red-brown beard. 
Her emerald ring had caught in it one day as she 
patted his cheek, and he had pretended to weep. She 
had also pretended to count the tears, and had given 
him a kiss for each. Then he was a boy, with her 
breath on his throat as she leaned to help him with 
his Virgil. Her rich voice had made the flexible 
verse throb like bars of music. He ’had been so 
proud of her. None of his playmates had possessed 
mothers who could help them with their Virgils. 
She had risen from a bed of illness to be present 
at his first communion. He could feel her tremble 
as she folded him afterwards in her arms and set 
her lips upon his head. She- had sat on the edge 
of his little iron bed nearly all that night, and then 
they had prayed together until it was morning. He 
remembered her kindly smiles and praises of his first 
interlined manuscript, — her astonished commendation 
of the one which he brought her a year later, — the 
pride which broke through her eyes, like light through 
a forming wave, when he put his first printed book 
into her hands. She had kissed his hair, his eyes, 
his lips. 

My mother ! my mother ! my mother !” he whis- 
pered, between hoarse sobs, sinking down and taking 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


159 


his head between his locked arms. Then he rose 
to his feet, passing quickly from the house, and lean- 
ing on the old stone gate of the garden, still with his 
eyes on the sea, in which the stars seemed to collect 
and scatter like drops of quicksilver. There were 
footsteps shortly, and a man^s voice humming an air 
from ‘‘Faust.” Nadrovine stepped quietly into the 
gravelled path before him, and Demarini stopped, 
hesitating. He did not recognize the figure that con- 
fronted him. 

“ My friends will wait on you to-morrow,” said 
Nadrovine. “ A quarrel at cards.” 

“ Ebbene, signor,” replied the Italian. He passed 
on with a perfect comprehension of what had hap- 
pened, but considered that kiss well bought. He 
resumed the air from “ Faust,” and Hadrovine heard 
it ringing out clearly on the tense quiet of the night. 

He returned to the house. 

“Vladimir?” said his mother, who had come to 
meet him. She spoke uncertainly, and this went to 
his heart. He had not yet realized the enormity of 
it all. 

“ Vladimir, are you there ?” she repeated. He did 
not speak, but made a movement of assent. They 
stood facing each other, and the slender curve of the 
rising moon shed a strange light between them. 

“ Are you there ?” she said again. “ What is the 
matter ? Why don’t you answer me ?” 

He moved back as she advanced towards him. “ I 


160 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


know, — I have seen No, no,” he said, as she 

attempted to put her hand on his arm. He tried 
to eontinue. was going to tell you. I went to 

your boudoir. I meant to tell you ” He stopped 

again, shuddering violently. 

You meant to tell me what ?” said his mother. 

There was an absolute silence for some seconds, 
and then he replied distinctly, in a low voice, — 

was going to tell you of my engagement to 
Sighorina Demarini.” 

There was another long silence, broken only by 
the sideward movement of his mother’s foot on the 
gravel. Well?” she said, finally. 

I know all. I saw it all, my mother !” he 
answered, brokenly, and then, with a repressed cry, — 

My mother ! You did not ! you could not ! 
Say it to me ! Say it !” 

She felt herself crushed in his arms. He was 
holding her fiercely as though he meant to tear a 
denial from her. 

‘^What — what is it that you wish me to say? 
You hurt me,” she managed to articulate. He re- 
leased her as suddenly as he had seized her, and 
lapsed into his former tone of dull constraint. 

I saw you with Demarini,” he said, evenly. 

• She was silent. 

I saw him kiss you.” 

Still silence. 

He continued, I saw you return the kiss.” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 101 

Well said his mother. He could almost have 
fancied that he saw her smile. 

I have challenged him/^ he replied. 

Well ?” she repeated. I happen to know that 
you are the better swordsman.’’ 

I do not understand,” he said, with an effort., — 

I do not understand how it is that you feel.” 

Give the muscodin a lesson,” suggested his 
mother, smiling distinctly this time. 

Nadrovine stared at her. “ What is it that you 
mean ?” he said. 

She approached him. He could not keep her 
from touching him. 

Vladimir,” she said, “ is it possible,” — she paused 
to laugh a little under her breath, — is it possible 
that you think I was serious just now?” 

That you were serious ?” He stared at her. 

dear Vladimir,” — she laughed uncontrol- 
ledly this time, — ^‘my dear, dear boy, wait a 
moment until I tell you.” He waited, without 
moving, until she resumed. ^‘Nothing will give 
me greater pleasure, I assure you of it on my 
honor,” — Nadrovine winced, — ^^than to have you 
split the forearm of that caniche-haired gommmx in 
your neatest manner.” 

His whole body was beginning to throb with a 
violent although repressed disgust. There seemed 
to be some vile metamorphosis of heaven and earth 
taking place. This woman who could use the light 
I 14 * 


162 the witness of the sun. 

slang of society to him at such a moment was his 
mother, and her lips had just been pressed by those 
of the man whom she designated muscadw/^ and 
^^gommeuxJ^ 

What is it ? what has come to you ?” he stam- 
mered. “ You are different.” 

She stood for at least three minutes looking out 
at the breaking silver of the Mediterranean, and 
then, wrapping her arms in the light scarf about 
her shoulders, began to speak. 

‘‘I will tell you everything,” she said. ‘^You 
will be very angry. It may estrange you from me 
for years, but at the end of those years you will love 
me more than ever. You will feel grateful to me 
as you have never felt before. It is this. I see 
you on the verge of ruining your whole life, your 
whole career. I determine to save you at any hazard. 
You will not listen to me. I watch and find that 
you are determined ; that nothing can change you, — 
no one, — your mother least of all. I go to see this 
girl with whom you are infatuated. I find her 
lovely, commonplace, the sort of woman who after 
a year of marriage would drive a man to suicide. 
I think, I pray, I plot. An idea comes to me. It 
is a sacrifice. Ugh ! I feel it now !” She made a 
movement of revolt with her whole supple figure. 

It is a terrible self-sacrifice, but mothers will do 
anything for their sons. I determine upon it. I 
determine to do it. I nerve myself, conquer myself. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


163 


Vladimir,” — she broke off and turned to him, her 
face honestly anxious and eager now in the pale 
light, — saw you just now in the door-way. It 
was for that I let Demarini kiss me. I meant you 
to chalfenge him.” 

There was again silence between them. 

do not understand,” he said, finally. He 
noticed that the wind shaking her heavy skirts 
loosened from them a perfume of white lilac, which 
produced an unnatural effect of spring in the sultry 
summer air. You say you meant me to challenge 
him ? — that you meant me to do it ?” 

“Yes, — for your own good. Yes, yes. I felt 
that you were ruining your life, — taking your des- 
tiny into your own hands. She would have made 
you wretched, cramped you, thwarted you ; your art 
would have been absolutely destroyed. There is no 
misery like that of an artist on finding that he has 
married one who does not appreciate or love his art. 
It is like being compelled to have for a companion 
in heaven one who is always sighing for earth. I 
saw all this. I knew I could not make you under- 
stand. I knew that you would laugh, would scorn 
the idea, would make a jest of it. You will per- 
haps hate me now for a while, — for a while: you 
would have hated me always if I had known this 
and had not told you, had not warned you, had 
not prevented you. You will thank me some day. 
How you will thank me ! You will kiss my hands. 


164 the witness of the sun. 

Vladimir, where are you going ? Tell me that you 

understand. Say that you understand ” 

Do not touch me,’^ said Nadrovine ; but she fol- 
lowed him and took his arm into both hands^. 

But you understand ? you do understand ?’’ she 
urged. 

Yes, I understand,’^ he replied, in a low voice, 
loosing her strong fingers and putting her hands 
from him. ask that you will not disturb me 

now.” 

‘^Vladimir?’ 

“ That you will not touch me.” 

Vladimir, you will not always be ” 

You must not touch me. I wish to be alone. 
Don’t follow me. I wish to be by myself.” 

He passed rapidly from her sight among the thick- 
ening shadows, leaving her standing there, her arms 
dropped straight and tense along her sides, her lips 
pressed inward in a firm expression of restrained 
pain. 

Nadrovine walked rapidly until he found himself 
among the ruins of the little temple on the hill. 
The sky above was like the outreaching of a great 
silver wing, soft with clouds as with wind-ruffled 
feathers. He could see the lights in the house 
below, glowing like oranges of flame among the 
thick branches of the trees. The sea’s voice seemed 
the purring of a somnolent tiger gentle with love 
and drowsing on distant sands. There was a pale. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. ' 165 

spiritual light filtered through the floating clouds 
overhead and resting on a mist of pearl below, — the 
light that might shine through moonlit water upon 
a drowned world. He sat perfectly still on the old 
marble bench, and seemed wrapped in a banner of 
sunlight, with the subtle scent of azaleas soaking 
the dense air. He remembered the very folds in 
her white gown. He remembered the white butter- 
fly that had alighted on her breast. And then it 
was Lotta’s tea-party that he recalled, — the droll 
little cups of red-and-gilt china, the apricot which 
he had cut in three pieces, the wicked Zi-Zi who 
had stolen Nicoletta’s sash, Nicoletta herself, and 
Lucia, and the strange anatomy of their elbowless 
pink-kid arms. 

Do not be frightened, monsieur : it is only I. I 
have been watching you. I thought you were asleep 
until you breathed so loudly. I wished very much 
to scream at first, because I did not know you ; but 
it was only a moment. As soon as I made up my 
mind to come nearer, I recognized you immediately. 
My mamma taught me that once when I was fright- 
ened by my own clothes on a chair. She took me 
up to them and let me feel them; and ever since 
then I have always gone up to things in the dark 
and felt them or looked at them very closely. It is 
such a good plan.” 

It was little Lotta Boutry who addressed him. 
She stood with her small feet bare on the cool marble 


166 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


in front of him. Her night-gown made a lawny 
vapor about her fragile limbs, and the moonlight 
glanced from her veil of dark hair in lustrous daz- 
zles, as from the leaves of the great magnolia below 
them. She looked like the spirit of this pale, opal- 
tinted night condensed into human shape. 


XV. 

“I hope I did not startle you, monsieur?” she 
continued, pushing back her damp hair and regard- 
ing him earnestly without moving. 

Startle me ? Why, no,” replied Nadrovine, 
absently. ^^But your slippers, little one? You 
will take cold standing on that chilly marble.” 

Oh, I think not,” said Lotta. “ It feels de- 
licious, — not at all too cool. The night is so warm 
in the house. I was thinking that the moon looked 
hot as I came up the stairway. I saw it through a 
little tear in the clouds. It was like a hot coal 
through gray ashes.” 

‘^ But what are you doing here at this hour of the 
night, little one?” asked Nadrovine. 

I came for my poor Zi-Zi. I forgot him. He 
has been lying there alone ever since five o’clock 
this afternoon. He was so unhappy that I could 
not make up my mind to strangle him, even though 
Cousine Ilva gave me one of her gold hairs. I 
know he has been thinking, thinking, thinking out 
here all by himself. Because dolls must think, you 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 167 

know. I am sure that locomotives do. I am sure 
they are in a wicked mood when they run off the 
rails and hurt so many poor people ; and then when 
they run together — what they call a collision — I am 
sure that they are in love with each other and that 
they are determined to embrace each other no matter 
how many people they hurt. I am sure dolls have 
feelings. If one could alive them with steam, like 
locomotives, I am sure they would run into each 
other’s arms, no matter how terribly they pinched 
the fingers of the person who was holding them. 
I will get poor Zi-Zi and try to comfort him.” 

She returned with the little doll in his crimson 
velvet blouse pressed against her bosom. 

He is very, very sad,” she said, gravely. “ His 
whole face is wet, he has been weeping so. You 
know more about men than I do, monsieur : tell 
me how to comfort him.” 

There is no comfort for men’s tears, little one.” 

But Zi-Zi is only a doll-man. There must be 
some comfort for him. Suppose you hold him a 
little while. I must go back to bed before they 
put out the lights. There is no light in Cousine 
Ilva’s room, and I crept out on my toes to keep 
from waking her. I could see her in the moonlight, 
though. She is so lovely. She let me put all the 
dolls to sleep across our feet, and did not even move, 
and she let me cover* them with her pretty white- 
and-blue toilet-cover. I slipped out of bed very 


168 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


softly. She did not even stir. Her hair was all 
between us, like gold. I kissed it. I wanted to 
kiss her, but I was afraid I would wake her. She 
said something in her sleep. She looked like an 
angel. Her hair showed on each side like gold 
wings. Oh, monsieur, you would write a story 
about her if you could see her to-night.’^ 

Nadrovine drew the child into his arms, but he 
was trembling, and she shrank back alarmed. 

‘^What is it? why do you shake so? Do you 
see anything ? INever mind, though : I can control 
myself. Perhaps it is a fairy.^^ 

And so you left her asleep, little one 
“There is nothing, then? I thought you saw 
something. Yes, she was fast, fast asleep. She 
taught me such a pretty verse before she went to 
sleep, though. I only remember two lines. It was 
all about different eyes. These are the lines : 

Quick to change are eyes of blue, 

Brown’s of all the sweetest hue. 

And then she said, ^Do you know any one with 
brown eyes, cMrie f and I said that you had brown 
eyes, and she laughed and held me. I was pulling 
off her stockings. It is so pretty to do, — -just like 
peeling the dark-blue skin off of a white fig ; and 
she has such pretty little toes, — the nails shine like 
any one else’s finger-nails, and there are little white 
arches on them. Then I comb and brush her hair. 


TBE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 169 

She is like a big, big doll to me. I do love her so ! 
You love her, don’t you, monsieur?” 

Yes,” said Nadrovine. 

was. sure that you did. And she loves you, — 
oh, devotedly !” 

CMrie, how do you know ?” 

Because when I speak of you she comes nearer 
to me, and takes me in her arms, and keeps her face 
against mine so that I cannot see it. And whenever 
your name is mentioned she turns as if it were her 
own name and some one were calling her. And — 
and the princes in her fairy-stories always look like 
you, and when she draws pictures they are all like 
you. And it was she who made me think of praying 
for you with those whom I love. And one day when 
I said to her that I hoped she would marry you, 
she almost hurt me with kisses, but whispered after- 
wards, ^ Do not say that to any one else, darling, for 
they would not understand.’ But it is true. I do 
hope that you will be married, and then I would 
pay you long, long visits, and we would be so 
happy together. You would wish it, would you 
not ?” 

With all my heart, pretty one. But see, the 
lights are going out in the house. You must not 
stay longer. Will you take your cousin a little mes- 
sage from me ? And can I trust you to tell it to no 
one else ?” 

The child looked at him seriously while stroking 
15 


H 


170 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


the disconsolate Zi-Zi down the entire length of his 
inaccurately-formed little figure. 

Must I awaken her to tell her, monsieur 
^^Yes, — with a kiss, little one. Tell her where 
you have been, and that you have seen me, and then 
say to her the words that I will repeat to you.’^ 

But, monsieur, she has such lovely, lovely dreams ; 
and the next morning she always tells them to me. 
Suppose I should break one in the middle? One 
can never mend a dream, you know, no matter how 
much one may desire to. One may begin by dream- 
ing of a nest of little white doves with pink bills 
and feet, which one is feeding on stars that taste 
sweet like bon-bons, and one may be awakened and 
go to sleep again to dream of a large cat that has 
eyes of green fire and red-hot claws which scratch 
and burn at the same time. I really know, mon- 
sieur, because I have had such things happen, and 
it is so distressing. And then, too, Cousine Ilva’s 
dreams are so beautiful. She hears water falling 
like music that makes itself. And sees flowers whose 
perfumes are so sweet that to them it is like loving. 
And great, silver-white peacocks, with purple-and- 
gold eyes on their tails. And jewels poured out on 
the ground, which are the lovely thoughts of good 
little children that the angels turn into precious stones 
to feed the poor. The sapphires are one’s thoughts 
of the blessed Christ-Child, and the pearls of the 
Holy Spirit, and the rubies of God. And when one 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


171 


wishes to help others it is diamonds, and when one 
is sorry for one’s sins it is emeralds. And amethysts 
mean kisses to those who do not expect them. And 
a topaz is just a kind word, even if one only speaks 
it to one’s self and nobody hears. And there are 
many, many others ; but I forget. Oh, I could not 
bear to disturb one of her dreams, monsieur !” 

“ No, my sweet one, I can well believe it ; although 
such souls have beautiful dreams whether they wake 
or sleep. But you will tell her the words I say to 
you as soon as she wakes, will you not ?” 

^^Yes, yes, truly,” said the child, earnestly. 
‘^What are they? I must hurry, and I wish to 
learn them correctly.” 

Say to her, then, my little heart, that the words 
on the blue ring that she wears around her neck are 
part of my message to her, and ask her to trust me 
whatever happens ; that, whatever it is, it could not 
be avoided. And” — he held the child’s face in his 
hands, so that he could look into her eyes — ‘^and 
that I love her, that I will always love her.” 

I am sure that you do,” said the child, simply. 

It makes your face so good.” 

Nadrovine carried her in his arms down the stairs 
and to the edge of the last terrace. As he put her 
gently down she kissed him of her own accord, a 
little, damp, child’s kiss that went to his heart. He 
kneeled down and drew her against his breast for a 
last caress. 


172 'I'HE WITNESS OF THE SUN 

Good-by, my dear little Lotta,’^ he said. And 
say your little prayer for me twice to-night.’^ 

‘‘ I will, monsieur. But I have already said it 
once.” 

Then make it three times, my dear little true one, 
and it will help me when I am sad and troubled.^’ 

Dear monsieur,^’ she replied, agitated vaguely, 
her lips quivering, my prayers will be that sadness 
and trouble may not come to you.” 

One might as well pray against the coming of 
death, little one. But there, I am talking at ran- 
dom. Bun, run, before the last light is put out. I 
will wait here for you.” 

He gave her a last kiss, and then stood watching 
her airy figure until it was gathered into the evasive 
shadows of the old garden. It seemed to him as 
though she were the wraith of his youth, vanishing 
as he looked, and leaving behind only a pulsing gloom 
and the yearning sounds of a summer midnight. The 
great harmony of the sea wounded him, as we are 
wounded by a voice that sang at the funeral of one 
we loved. It was the sound most associated with 
her, — with her words, her tears, her laughter, — a pro- 
found, subdued undercurrent of rich cadences, above 
which her clear tones rose like the night-call of a 
bird above the sonorous breathing of a great forest. 
He stood and looked at the pauseless swaying of the 
moonlit tide below him, and knew that he could 
never again endure that majestic sight nor bear the 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 173 

rhythm of its throbbing monotone. It is hard to be 
deprived of love and of the sea at the same time, — 
only those who love the sea can understand how hard. 
Nadrovine’s heart surged up for one bitter instant in 
a passion of revolt and rebellion, that instinct of 
savagery which possesses us when we first learn that 
circumstance is lord of all, and that the result of the 
actions of others, and not man, is often master of his 
fate. He had not allowed himself to think of his 
mother, or, rather, as yet he felt nothing in regard 
to her. That part of his nature which used to vibrate 
at the least memory of her seemed numbed and inca- 
pable of sensation. He walked back and forth along 
the broad turf-path, with that hungry feeling grow- 
ing in his heart which besets those who w^alk alone 
through scenes where their dearest have once been 
with them. And then he became racked with an 
unconquerable longing to see her, to speak with her, 
to take her in his arms, if only for one moment. 
To know that it was impossible only rendered the 
painful longing more frantic. He thought, with a 
sharp contraction of regret, of how many better mes- 
sages he might have given the child to take her, and 
in so much sweeter a way. At least he could have 
sent her a knot of her favorite blush-roses: they 
would have lain on her pillow all night and in the 
morning have been pressed against her face. But 
this thought disturbed him with a sudden sense of 
revulsion. Ah ! he remembered. He paused, and 
15 * 


174 the witness of the sun. 

stood perfectly still, lifting his shoulders a little, as 
though to withstand the buffet of an inrolling wave. 
His mind wandered to commonplace things. He re- 
membered that his man had neglected to replace sonie 
books, which were to be returned, in the packing- 
cases. The petty prick of irritation returned with 
the thought. They should have been sent back at 
least two days ago. There was also a roll of proof 
waiting for him on his writing-table. He began 
reconsidering a chapter which he had determined to 
omit. The sea came rolling towards him, insistent, 
unavoidable, like a great genie daring him to forget 
for even a moment. Turning, he walked steadily in 
the opposite direction, but those dithyrambic surges 
of deep sound, beating up against the steely arch 
overhead, seemed to descend upon him in great floods, 
and to inundate his mind with their individuality, 
until he was powerless to think any thoughts save 
those which they recalled. 

XVI . 

It was at seven o’clock the next morning that 
Madame Nadrovine was roused by the entrance of 
some one who walked softly through the gloom of 
the closely-curtained room until reaching her bed- 
side. 

“ Alma ?” she said, half raising herself among the 
light bedclothes, is it not very early for my coffee ?” 
There was no reply, but the intruder suddenly thrust 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


175 


wide the Venetian blinds of the window facing the 
bed, and drew back the curtains, admitting a tangle 
of early sunbeams, which, reflected from a bath near 
the window, played over the bed and the half-awak- 
ened woman. She put up one arm to shield her eyes, 
leaning on the other. Her hair was braided in one 
great braid, like that of a little girl. She looked 
amazingly young, with her bare throat, blinking eyes, 
and cheeks flushed with sleep and creased by the 
folds of her pillow-case like those of a baby. 

What is it ? Who is it ? What do you want ?” 
she asked, unable yet to identify the person who 
confronted her. 

He is dead ! I have killed him,’’ replied the 
voice of Nadrovine. He was standing with his back 
to the window, and she could not see his face for 
the blaze of morning light behind him. 

have killed him,” he repeated, in the same 
monotonous voice. “ I only meant to wound him ; 
but he slipped. He was quite dead in a few 
moments. The surgeon could do nothing.” 

His mother stammered, catching her night-gown 
together at the throat : 

‘^Who is dead? who is dead? What do you 
mean ?” 

It is Demarini. We fought before day this 
morning. The sun was just rising when he died. 
There was a horrible likeness with the eyes shut. 
She is so fair, but there is a likeness. It was hor- 


176 the witness of the sun. 

rible. I can never forget it. I will see that face 
over your shoulder whenever I look at you.’’ 

^^Bah! — I will not believe it, that he is dead,” 
cried his mother, making an excited motion to leave 
the bed. It is some ridiculous sensationalism. 
One knows the way that surgeons talk, — and an 
Italian ! King for Alma.” 

^^No,” replied ^N^adrovine. I have locked the 
door. I wish to speak to you alone. It seems so 
strange. I seem so changed, as though I myself 
were dead. You know that you have ruined my 
life?” 

My dear boy, let me ” 

^^When I say that you have ruined my life, I 
mean that you have also ruined everything that makes 
life worth living. You have left me nothing.” 

My dear Vladimir ” 

I no longer love you. I would prefer the pain 
of loving you, knowing you to be unworthy, rather 
than this feeling of utter incapacity. You seem 
like a machine, — a beautiful machine which has 
maimed a man confiding too much in his knowl- 
edge of it. Nothing seems real but this hour, this 
moment. My boyhood and manhood are like the 
confusion of past dreams. I know that you are my 
mother, that you gave me birth with pain and have 
sacrificed much for me, and yet I hope that after 
to-day I will never look at you or hear your voice 
again. I know that this absolute absence of all 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 177 

emotion is unnatural. I^ature will speak before 
long, perhaps before to-night, with another of her 
million voices. Perhaps I shall hate you. I might 
be tempted to curse you.^’ There was a pause, 
during which one could hear a gardener’s boy sweep- 
ing the grass with' a broom of twigs. His mother 
made no reply, but continued to look up at him 
with her clear, unfaltering eyes. 

Well?” she said, at last. 

I am going before such a change can take place. 
I wished to see you once more. It will be a final 
farewell. I hope never to see you again.” 

You will say that, of course, as often as you wish,” 
she murmured behind her shut teeth. Go on.” 

I thought that perhaps it might soften me, that 
I might find something to say to you, — something 
foreriving*. I do not forerive you.” 

And then?” 

will never forgive you. We will never see 
each other again.” 

You will remember that I told you we might 
be estranged for several years.” 

“ You will never see me again. You will never 
even hear of me.” 

‘‘It is natural that you should feel bitter. I 
expected you to be much more violent. But it is 
nonsense — about Demarini, you know. Yaturally, 
he swooned from loss of blood.” 

“ There is no doubt of his being dead,” said Ya- 
rn 


178 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


drovine, coldly. I came to speak to you of one or 
two things. In the first place, I wish to ask that 
you will make no effort to discover my wiiereabouts 
at any time. It would only annoy and disturb me, 
and would change nothing.” 

He speaks to me, — to me !” whispered his mother, 
still keeping her eyes fastened on him. She nodded 
assent. 

Then I wish you to allow Ivan to pack every- 
thing that I leave, without being interrupted. I 
want no one to enter my rooms or arrange my things 
except Ivan.” 

Again his mother nodded. 

^^And then there is this. You have a portrait 
of my father. It is in a carved silver case set with 
little rubies. Ah ! it is there around your neck. 
Give it to me, please.” 

She bared her throat with a superb movement. 

“ Take it,” she replied. 

He unfastened it without touching her white flesh, 
and opened it to assure himself that all was as he 
remembered it. His own face confronted him, — the 
face of a boy of eighteen, with blond curls, rather 
long. A sudden rush of emotion mastered him. He 
was blinded, and the blood gathered hotly in his 
throat. He put out his hand to steady himself, and 
it fell upon his mother’s shoulder. She clasped it 
with both her own, in a sudden eager gesture of 
appeal. Her lips moved. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 179 

Nadrovine stood staring down at the portrait in 
his hand, while she watched him ravenously, her 
parted lips still forming nnuttered words. 

He is softened. It has touched him. My great 
love has melted him. He will forgive me.’^ 

These were the sentences that she framed in silent 
but rapturous certainty. He turned suddenly, with- 
drawing his hand from beneath hers, and tossing the 
open case upon the bed. 

“It has always been so. You have always put 
me before him. I never knew it until now. I might 
have known. I might have known that such light- 
heartedness as yours could never have been feigned. 
What woman who loved het husband could have 
laughed and danced and reigned, as you have done, 
with him, her husband, rotting in Siberia ? I have 
been a fool ! I have been a fool 

He went to the door and unlocked it. She thought 
that he would come back, but he opened it and passed 
through, closing it after him. 

“ It is a natural mood. It will pass,’’ she said, 
consoling herself by speaking aloud as she rose from 
bed. 

She walked to the open window and half closed the 
blinds, shutting out the sunlight. There was a half- 
finished letter on her writing-table, — an order for 
some new morning gowns. She took up the pen and 
began to finish it mechanically, thinking of other 
things all the while that she wrote. Not for an 


180 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


instant did she believe Demarini to be dead. All 
the frivolous details that she was describing inter- 
wove themselves oddly with her thoughts, and the 
scenes of the past twenty-four hours appeared again 
to her, seen through folds of lace and muslin and 
behind the fluttering of pale-green ribbons, and hats 
garnished with apple-blossoms. She ended the letter 
and sealed it with elaborate care, spoiling two or three 
envelopes in the process, and then reopened it to say 
that, after all, she had decided to have the gown of 
India muslin made over pale-green silk and embroid- 
ered by hand with apple-blossoms in a very delicate 
shade of rose-color, the sprays being far apart in 
order to give the costume an airy look. She then 
sealed it again, even more carefully than before, and 
rang for her maid, being impatient to dress and yet 
avoiding beginning. It seemed as though she could 
not take her bath and have her hair arranged for 
hours; and all the time she was wondering about 
Nadrovine, and picturing him in various ways. 

It was not until she appeared at luncheon and 
asked for him that she realized his determination. 
He had taken the morning train for Paris some 
hours ago. The servant who told her noticed that 
she assumed her seat at the table rather abruptly, 
but beyond this she showed no emotion. The only 
time that her self-control forsook her was when she 
became convinced beyond doubt of Demarini’s death. 
Instead of growing pale, the blood rushed darkly to 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


181 


her face, which worked convulsively in an expression 
of horror. They heard her mutter, — 

Then he will not forgive me.” 

Her maid wished to undress her, but she motioned 
her fiercely to leave the room. The girl, who adored 
her, crouching outside her door, heard the soft foot- 
falls moving up and down for at least two hours, and 
the noise of her silken skirt hissing in little jerks as 
her quick impatient strides drew it after her along 
the tiled floor. 

XVII. 

Three weeks of unbroken silence from Nadrovine 
followed the day of his departure. His mother had 
not left the house once, and for forty-eight hours 
had been locked in her apartments. No one was ad- 
mitted. The trays of food left at her door were taken 
away untouched, while the little Swede, kneeling and 
listening at the key-hole, could hear nothing, — not a 
movement, not a sound, not even a sigh. 

It was about nine o’clock on the evening of the 
third day, that Alma, passing through the hall with 
wine and fruit in her hands, encountered a figure 
clothed in white standing just within the door of 
entrance. She stopped and stared in silence, while the 
figure approached her. It spoke in a soft voice. 

Can I see Madame Nadrovine ?” 

Alma saw that there was pale-golden hair under 
its scarf of white gauze, and that its breast rose and 
fell quickly. She also heard the sound of its escaping 
16 


182 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


breath, and decided that this breathing was too rapid 
and natural to be that of an apparition. 

Can I see your mistress said the gentle voice 
a second time. 

Alma steadied her tray of wine and fruit against 
the carved iron railing of the stairway. 

I do not think so, mademoiselle,’^ she replied, 
hesitating. She has not seen any one, not even 
taken food, for three days.” 

Is she then ill ?” 

^^No one knows, mademoiselle; for no one has 
seen her for three days.” 

“ I must see her,” said Ilva. 

But, mademoiselle ” 

I must see her,” repeated the girl, gently. Come ! 
you will take me to her, I know. I am in great sorrow, 
and she alone can help me.” 

Alma still hesitated, although she began to yield, 
and Ilva took her little, plump, tanned hand in both 
her own and pressed it against her breast. I may 
be able to help her too,” she said. Give me the 
wine and fruit, and let me take it to her.” 

But — but ” stammered the girl. Ilva, coming 

close to her and still holding her hands, said, in a 
ringing voice, low and sweet with the weakness of 
misery, — 

Listen ! listen, my sister, — for all women should 
be sisters in time of trouble : I only want to help 
her and to try to be helped by her. I am in great 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


183 


sorrow. My wretchedness is almost past my own 
power of comprehension. I wish only to stand out- 
side her door and speak to her. You may watch 
here on the stairs. Why, what harm could I do 
her ? I am only a poor, unhappy girl. Her door 
is locked, you say. How could I harm her in any 
way ? How could I ? Even if I wanted to, how 
could I ? And what is your name 
Alma,’^ replied the girl. 

Then, dear, dear Alma, let me go to her door 
and speak to her through it. You may watch ; you 
may even listen, if you wish.^’ 

The girl broke suddenly into tears. 

Go ! go she exclaimed, sobbing, and holding 
out the little silver tray with both hands, while avert- 
ing her face. Go quickly, and the blessed Lord be 
with you !’^ 

“ And with you f’ said Ilva, kissing her. She 
took the wine and fruit from her hands, saying, with 
a sorrowful smile, But why do you weep 

I weep because you have the look in your face 
of those who die young,’^ replied the girl, ‘^and 
because you are so beautiful.^^ 

It is well to die young,’^ said Ilva, smiling again. 
^^But I love you for your tears, and I will pray for 
you always with those whom I love.’’ 

She kissed her again solemnly on the forehead, 
and ascended the wide marble stairway. Alma had 
told her to stop at the first door to the right, and she 


134 the witness of the sun. 

stood there awhile in silence, before speaking. Then 
she said, gently, — 

‘^Vladimir’s mother?” 

There was only silence for reply. 

She spoke again, even more softly, more gently : 

“ Vladimir’s mother ? Vladimir’s dear, dear 
mother?” 

Only silence, profound, vibrating. Again she 
spoke, with an anguished note of entreaty begin- 
ning to throb through her low tones : 

“Oh, will you not answer me? Will you not 
answer me? I only wish to ask you where he is, 
that I may tell him how fully I forgive him, — how 
I believed the words that little Lotta brought me. 
I trust him. I trust him utterly. I feel that he 
is suffering, that he is in anguish ! I only can help 
him, — but not without you, — not without you. Even 
if you hate me, will you not open to me for his 
sake? You may curse me, you may tell me how 
you hate me, but I will not care. It is for his sake. 
. . . Oh, if you Would but understand ! Oh, if I 
could but make you understand ! I will go into a 
convent. I will promise you never to see him again. 
Only I cannot bear the thought of his suffering : I 
cannot ! . . .1 cannot ! It is driving me mad. I 
hear only evil words of him from morning until 
night, from night until morning. Will you not 
answer me ? Are you dead too ?” 

Still the heavy silence which seemed to press 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


185 


against her ears until they ached. She kneeled 
down, supporting the tray of fruit upon her knees 
and lifting upward her pale face in supplication. 

0 Sancta Maria/^ she whispered, soften her 
heart ; let her heart be softened by the words’ that 
thou wilt teach me to say to her.^^ 

Again she bent forward, with her cheek against 
the door. 

^^Open to me in Ms name, — in Ms name,” she 
murmured. I only wish it for his sake. Believe 
me ! oh, believe me, — believe me ! You may say 
what you will to me. I will endure any reproach 
that you offer me. Only open to me. Only open 
to me, that I may see you and speak with you.” 

After waiting several moments, during which her 
lips moved incessantly in whispered words of prayer, 
she spoke again : 

1 will not weary you more ; but if during the 
night you feel that you can speak to me, open the 
door. You will find me still here. And there is 
wine for you, — his dear mother, — and some fruit. 
Oh, you must be so weak, — so weak ! My heart 
aches when I think of it. But now good-night. 
May angels minister to you ! May you be told in 
dreams of my sincerity ! I am ready to promise 
whatever you wish.” 

She then stretched herself deliberately along the 
floor, resting her head against a panther’s skin, which 
she rolled up and over which she placed her gauze 
16 * 


186 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


scarf in order to have a comparatively cool pillow. 
It seemed to her that she lay there for hours. She 
lived over again every scene with Nadrovine since 
her first meeting with him as a little girl. Alma 
had fallen asleep on the stairs, and the wax candles 
in the hall below, unextinguished, dripped in semi- 
transparent mounds on the tiles beneath and hung 
in stalactites from the crystal bob^ches. One by one 
they burned low, flared, and went out. Only the 
languid glittering of the stars which studded the 
space of sky enclosed by an open window near at 
hand lighted the great hall. Ilva had not stirred. 
She lay in an attitude of tense quiet, one hand retain- 
ing her improvised pillow in its place, the other 
stretched above the little tray at her side, like the 
hand of a mother questioning the slumber of her 
first-born. Was it not this wine and fruit which 
was to nourish his mother, — the woman who had 
brought him into the world to love her and to be 
loved by her? 

It was one o’clock when the door opened wide, and 
a tall, impassive form appeared on the threshold, 
pressed forward, as it were, by a flood of light from 
beyond. The folds of her white crape dressing- 
gown fell in an almost forbidding simplicity to her 
bare feet. Her face was ghastly, her eyes dull and 
sunken beneath their dark lids. Her thick hair, 
half braided, was tangled in a lustreless mesh of 
strands. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


187 


II va at once rose to her knees, and remained in that 
position, looking up at her. Presently she ventured 
to lift her clasped hands timidly, drawing them down 
at once and straining them against her breast. 

Oh, how ill you look ! How ill you look !” 
she exclaimed, in a pained voice. 

Nadrovine’s mother stood motionless, still regard- 
ing her. Suddenly she moved aside. 

Come in !’’ she said, sternly. 

II va found herself in an airy room, charming with 
hangings of white and gold, and with low chairs and 
couches covered with old-fashioned silks in faded 
tints. The bed, with its eight curtains of yellow 
brocade, was as smooth as though just spread. 
There were torn papers scattered over the floor, 
and an overturned inkstand. The ink, sluggishly 
following an uncertain course, had left a gloomy 
stain on the bright floor. 

And now, what is it that you wish with me 
asked the woman. 

Ilva’s heart seemed strangling her. 

‘‘ That you will tell me where he is. I wish to 
forgive him. I wish to know where he is. It is 
only because I cannot bear that he shall suffer. Ah ! 
I know that you will tell me,” she ended, in a suffo- 
cating voice. 

Madame Nadrovine regarded her calmly. ^^I 
know no more where he is than you do,” she said, 
at last. 


188 the witness of the sun 

But, signora ! — dear signora . . . !” 

I have told you that I know no more than you 

do.” 

But you love him ? — you love him ? You can- 
not desire that he should suflPer. If he could only 
know that I forgive him !” 

For what do you forgive him ?” 

Signora, ... for the death of ray father.” 

You are indeed lenient, mademoiselle.” 

I trust him. I know that it was not his fault. 
I do not understand, but I am sure of that. I trust 
him utterly. I am sure that he did not mean to do 
it.” 

have not found so great faith, no, not in 
Israel !’ ” quoted the woman, in a hard voice, half 
smiling down at her. “ You are deeply in love, it 
is evident, mademoiselle.” 

Oh, yes ! yes !” cried Ilva, her face breaking 
into a radiance of innocent rapture. You must 
see how I love him to have come to you. I felt 
that you hated me, and yet I came. I loved him so 
much that your hate seemed a little, little thing in 
comparison. I knew that you would see me. I 
was sure of it. I thought perhaps that I could 
make you understand that you had hated me un- 
justly, — that I was not as you thought me. Believe 
me, signora, oh, believe me ! I love you for his sake, 
in spite of your hatred. I will do whatever you 
wish.” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


189 


I tell you that I know nothing. Why do you 
stare at me so? There, sit down. You are as 
white as your gown. There, sit down, I say. Do 
you faint ? Look ! I will shake you if you attempt 
to faint.” 

She caught the girl fiercely by the arm, while the 
great eyes looked up at her, dazed, but unterrified. 

You would not really hurt me?” she said, half 
questioningly. Madame Nadrovine withdrew her 
hand in some haste. 

Why should ! hurt you?” she asked. 

I knew you would not. It was only a thought. 
We cannot help our thoughts, you know.” Then 
suddenly she slipped . from the chair into which 
Madame Nadrovine had forced her, and clasped her 
about with both arms. 

Signora ! signora ! in Christ’s name, — for Christ’s 
sake, — tell me where he is !” 

Little idiot ! have I not already said twice, that 
I do not know ?” 

But, signora . . . ” 

“ I tell you I do not know.” 

But, signora, think, — think !” 

I say I know nothing, — nothing ! Saints ! am 
I not sufficiently humiliated by such a confession, 
that you force me to repeat it? I tell you that I 
know nothing. Do you hear? Nothing, nothing, 
nothing, nothing !” 

“ But, signora, listen. I wish to ... ” 


190 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


, Nothing, I say ! Let me go ! You drive me 
frantic ! Let go 

She drew her robe violently from the girl’s hands, 
causing her to swerve and fall sidelong on the floor. 
A little sigh escaped the pale lips, and then the slight 
limbs settled quietly. 

The woman stood looking at her for a moment, 
rigid, fierce, her hands clinched ; but she soon saw 
by the pallor of the face at her feet that the swoon 
was not a feigned one. She knelt abruptly, and took 
one of the little, relaxed hands in hers. It was 
damp and cold. She put her hand on the wavy hair ; 
it was also damp about the brow and temples. 

Wake ! wake !” she called, in a stertorous whis- 
per, dragging her upward by the lifeless arms, and 
then lowering the inert body again upon the floor. 
She slapped her face, her hands. She poured the 
contents of a great ebony case of perfume over the 
inanimate breast. The delicate hue of flesh shone 
through the soaked muslin, but no signs of returning 
life stirred its folds. She then caught sight of the de- 
canter of wine on the tray near the still open door, 
and, seizing it, forced a glassful between the girl’s 
teeth. As the long breath of returning conscious- 
ness lifted her bosom, the fasting woman at her side, 
made ravenous by the smell of the wine and fruit, 
began to eat the grapes, skins and seed, tearing them 
from their stems with her sharp teeth, and washing 
them down with glass after glass of sherry. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


191 


XVIII. 

When she had finished this strange and hurried 
repast, she turned, still kneeling, and looked down 
at the prostrate girl. Ilva’s eyes were closed, but she 
breathed regularly, and one of her hands stirred 
slightly, like a fallen magnolia-leaf lifted by the 
wind. Madame Nadrovine felt the girFs heart. It 
was beating, slowly but firmly. 

Let me help you to the bed,^^ she suggested, in a 
cold voice. Ilva did not reply. She closed again 
her dark eyes, which she had half opened, and lay 
without motion. Madame Nadfovine did not waste 
further time in w^ords. Thrusting her strong arms 
under the slight figure, she lifted her and carried 
her to the great bed, with its eight shining curtains. 

She drew the old-fashioned embroidered white satin 
coverlet from beneath her, and placed it over her up 
to her breast. 

I thank you,” murmured Ilva, again opening 
her languid eyes for an instant. Invigorated by the 
wine which she had drunk, Madame Nadrovine began 
to rub the lifeless limbs with a regular sweeping 
movement of her strong hands, and as she sat, bend- 
ing back and forth to her task, she noticed how frail 
and wasted was the fair face and how transparent 
the little hands unfolded on the shimmering coverlet. 

^^She has been fasting too,” she muttered to- her- 
self in her voice of the past three weeks, — a voice 


192 the witness of the sun. 

without feeling or inflections. She found that she 
could not withdraw her gaze from the quiet, pale 
face. What long, dark lashes she had, curling to 
her eyebrows with their golden tips which a mon- 
dame would undoubtedly have dyed ! What fine, 
narrow eyebrows ! What a clear forehead, smooth 
and bluish, with thread-like veins at the temples! 
Her soft hair grew in little points, downy and of a 
pale brown. Above rippled a luxurious tide of 
silverish gold. The little nostrils were haughty, 
thin, and high-arched, the lips curved and drooping 
slightly at the corners. Nadro vine’s mother gazed 
at them as though under a spell, and then her look 
dropped to the white throat stretched back on the 
pillow. . Her little crooked toilet-scissors were lying 
near. She could touch them with her outstretched 
hand. What was it that she had said to Nadrovine 
only a month ago? She took them up on three 
fingers and made the motion of cutting in the air. 
The sherry burned through her veins. A soft touch 
roused her. Ilva had slipped from the pillow, and 
was resting her cheek upon one of her hands. 

You are so good to me,” she said. I knew 
that you were good. He could not love you as he 
does if you were not good.” 

Madame Nadrovine let the scissors drop noiselessly 
among the folds of her dressing-gown. She frowned, 
however. 

‘‘ You are clever,” she remarked, in her harshest 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 193 

tones. made a mistake when I thought you 

silly.’’ 

No, no, signora ! Do not think I say things for 
effect. He used to speak to me for houm and hours 
of his love for. you. We used to talk of you over 
and over again. I was afraid, but he used to tell 
me of your loveliness and goodness, and then I would 
not be so frightened. Ah, signora, why do you hate 
me? He will always be yours more than mine. 
He is your flesh and blood. You have suffered for 
him. Oh, signora, think of it ! — ^you have suffered 
for him, and I, no matter how much I suffer, what 
can I do for him ? We are separated forever. He 
will not marry me with this stain of blood between 
us. Will you not let me love you? I can have no 
more. He will never wish me to be his wife now : 
all that is gone, — gone. I can only be his sister, 
—your daughter, signora, — ^your daughter !” 

For the first time she began to weep. Great tears 
glazed her face. Her sobs shook her convulsively, 
and she grasped Madame Nadrovine’s gown with 
both hands. The woman rose excitedly, pushing 
her back among the heaped-up pillows. 

Never ! . . . never !” she said, in a choked voice. 

My daughter ? Never !” 

She took two or three strides forward. In the 
centre of the room she paused, turning about and 
regarding the tear-shaken girl with a splendid scorn. 

My daughter ! Are you Demarini’s child, you 
17 


n 


194 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


who wish to be my daughter? You wish to have 
for a mother the mother of the man who killed your 
father 

^^Ah, signora, that was an accident. My poor 
father slipped. We were told that by the surgeon 
who attended him. And I also have Ms words, — 
the words of your son. They are here in my breast. 
It was an accident, a terrible, terrible accident. Oh, 
signora, believe that I have suffered. I loved my 
father. It was I who watched with him all that first 
dreadful night, — I and little Lotta. She would not 
leave me. There was no one else but the servants ; 
and of course I could not have borne that. My 
mother and my aunt were, both ill, and Nini is afraid 
of the dead. I sat beside him, at his head, so that T 
could look down upon his face. It was very beauti- 
ful. I never noticed before how long his lashes were, 
like a woman’s, and his forehead so clear in the 
candle-light. At first I could only think of the 
awful wound in his breast, ... of who had made 
it there. I felt as though the sword had pierced me. 
And then to be thrust by the hand that had caressed 
me, — his daughter ! — that had drawn the sign of 
the cross upon my lips, and in my tears ! I knew 
that my father had forgiven him. He looked so 
calm, ... so good. It was almost the face of a saint, 
— so pure and placid. And he was good, — good and 
gentle. It must have been some madness. I know 
that he has forgiven. I know that he would plead 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN I95 

for me, signora, . . . would wish me to forgive. 
Why, I can almost see him, there, there beyond your 
shoulder 

In her excitement, with running tears and catch- 
ing breath, Ilva kneeled up in the great bed and 
extended her arm towards Madame Nadrovine, her 
eyes fixed as though on some object beyond her. 
The short, -hoarse cry that the woman uttered 
startled her : it was almost like the bark of some 
animal in anguish. She wheeled and caught at a 
chair near her for support. 

You see nothing ! . . . Why do you point at me 
in that theatrical manner? . . . You know that you 
see nothing ! . . . You do it for etfect.’^ The words 
came in hurried bursts, as though forced from her, 
and the chair trembled with her heavy grasp upon it. 

It is absurd, . . . absurd she repeated, sinking 
down and thrusting back her loosened hair with both 
hands. But you are a good actress, mademoiselle.” 

At these words, Ilva rose slowly from the bed, 
and stood erect, meeting the sneering gaze of 
Madame Nadrovine in a calm, level look. 

Since you can believe this of me, there is nothing 
left for me but to go, signora,” she said, with a quiet 
dignity. I wish you good-night.” 

She made a slight inclination, graceful and self- 
contained, and, passing through the open door, went 
swiftly down the broad stairway and into the warm 
night outside. Madame Nadrovine remained where 


196 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


she was, the scornful smile with which she had greeted 
the last speech of the young girl still lifting the cor- 
ners of her lips. 

As she had done with Nadrovine, she waited, ex- 
pecting to see Ilva return and throw herself at her 
feet in a last paroxysm of pleading and despair. 
The moments passed on in quiet silence, however, 
the perfumes and leaf-sounds of the great garden 
below rising and falling with the indolent wind. 
She rose finally and approached the open window. 
In the distant haze of the late and waning moon- 
light, the girfs figure shone like a small statuette 
of silver among the dark shrubbery, and presently 
vanished altogether. Madame Nadrovine turned 
again towards the lighted room. It was suffocating 
with the scent of the vervain which she had poured 
over Ilva during her swoon, and the empty grape- 
twigs lay in a desolate-looking bundle among the half- 
filled sherry-glasses. Moths and strange summer in- 
sects of all sorts were fluttering and singing about 
the glittering candles on her toilet-table and writing- 
desk. Some of them were half burned to death and 
buzzed in anguish among the silver and ivory brushes 
and toilet-articles ; others, half plunged in the melted 
wax, strove to free themselves with desperate contor- 
tions of their long legs. 

The woman stood for a moment gazing absently 
down at the struggling creatures ; then, lifting a 
brush, she put ^n end to their pain by a quick tap 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


197 


or two, and, taking fresh candles from a drawer, 
placed them on her writing-table. A square book 
of black Eussian leather with a heavy lock and 
monogram in silver lay between the two candle- 
sticks. She opened it, read a page or two, turned 
to a fresh page, dipped her pen in the ink, and, 
kneeling down in front of the table, began to write 
as follows : 

^^Just God, have mercy upon me, and turn the 
heart of my son towards me again. Thou knowest 
that all I have done was for his sake. Thou knowest 
how distasteful and abominable it was to me beyond 
words. If I have done wrong I ask Thy forgive- 
ness. I will fast for a year, and sell my jewels for 
the poor, if Thou wilt but pardon me. Judge me 
not by the offence, O Lord, but by the love that 
caused it. If I almost worship my son, O Lord, 
Thou, whose Son was worshipped by his mother, 
wilt look leniently upon what for me is a sin. O 
God, lay not the death of Demarini to my charge. 
Thou knowest that I did not mean him to be killed. 
My object was to make a breach between the two 
families which would prevent my son from marrying 
an immature child in no way worthy of him. My 
God, I have been called a hard woman. Thou who 
madest me knowest that if this is so it is the fault 
of heredity rather than from any wish of my own ; 
but to my son, O God, I am as melted wax. Lord, 
give him back to me, if I die with his first look. 

17 * 


198 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


Give him back to me in love, if his first kiss means 
death to me. These words are weak and cold to 
what is filling my heart like bubbling iron. Why 
didst Thou send this girl to divide us ? Did I not 
bring him up to fear and honor Thee ? Did I not 
teach him to make his genius an offering unto Thee ? 
Wherein have I failed? Why is this punishment 
sent upon me? I feel that Thou art angry with 
me ; and yet, Lord, it is not, alas ! Thy anger which 
so much grieves me as the loss of my son. It is not 
so much Thy anger that I dread, as that it will cause 
Thee to keep him from me. I feel that Thou art 
displeased with me for my lack of gentleness to the 
girl ; but I would have been a hypocrite had I pre- 
tended to feel any pity for her. Perhaps she de- 
serves it. I do not know. It is nothing to me. 
Thou seest, O Lord, how utterly I bare my soul to 
Thee. I hide nothing. I excuse nothing. The 
thing that I did was wrong, but the love that caused 
it was sublime. It was the wisdom of the world, 
but Thy Son hath told us to be ^ wise as serpents,’ 
and I did not mean to be less ‘ harmless than a dove.’ 
I meant not the death of any one. I only wished to 
save my son, and the great genius which Thou hast 
given him, from a living death. Let him live to 
thank me for it. Let him live to recognize that 
Demarini’s death was indeed an accident for which 
neither he nor I are responsible. Bring him back 
to me. Soften his heart. Give him to me again. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


199 


Thou knowest that, with all my sins, I am honest 
to Thee. Even to Thee I never feign to feel that 
which is absent. I fear Thee more than I love Thee, 
and I love my son more than I desire perfect good- 
ness, but if Thou wilt only give him to me once 
more I will strive to serve Thee even with my hard- 
ness. Give’ him back to me, that I may hear him 
say, if only once, that he loves me, and then punish 
me as Thou wilt. Amen.” 

XIX. 

Madame Nadrovine, with the practicality which 
distinguished her, set about aiding Providence to 
answer her prayer. She employed in secret the ser- 
vices of one of the most distinguished detectives in 
France, and, some months from the night of her 
interview with Ilva, discovered that her son was ill 
with a slow fever in poor apartments in one of the 
side-streets of Paris. 

She knocked at the door of his room the day after 
this information had reached her, scarcely waiting 
for his answer before entering. It was a small room, 
with whitewashed walls and heavy walnut furniture 
of that awkward and obsolete order which always 
manages to rise, like cream, to the top story of old 
houses. The window's were small, set with panes 
of greenish glass, and spotted a dingy yellow over 
the entire upper sash by repeated layers of rain- 
drops. Opposite, in the water ish light of the fading 


200 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

afternoon, the zinc roofs and awnings gave forth a 
gray glare, which seemed to be reflected in the black 
ooze of the streets below. A fine and steady rain 
was falling. The depressing gleam of hundreds of 
soaked umbrellas passing and repassing far below 
gave one a sensation of desolation which was aug- 
mented by the glisten of the wet cab-tops, and the 
swallows preening their damp feathers on the branch 
of a dead tree near the grimy window. 

Sunk in an old chair covered with time- dimmed 
cretonne, was Nadrovine, his face turned listlessly 
towards the blank patch of sky visible to him through 
the clouded casement, his hands resting inertly on 
a closed book which was sunk between his knees. 
His dark dressing-gown, folded and re-folded about 
his figure, gave a wonderful appearance of emacia- 
tion. His hair, grown longer during his illness, re- 
called to his face a look of his youth as represented in 
the miniature which he had taken from his mother’s 
neck on the day of their last interview. She turned 
the key in the door, which she closed behind her, 
and, slipping it into her pocket, advanced a few steps. 

She spoke to him. ‘^Vladimir?” she said, in a 
low voice. 

He half rose from the great chair, steadying him- 
self with a hand on either arm. His pale face be- 
came suifused with blood. 

It is you ? ... It is you ?” he said, on short, 
rushing breaths. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


201 


Yes, it is I ! . . . your mother. Did you thiuk 
that you could be ill, suffering, and I not find it 
out V’ 

He continued to stare at her in silence, his quiver- 
ing arms retaining him in his half-erect posture. 

She came close to him and put forth her hand to 
force him gently back into the chair, but he dropped 
from her touch and pressed back among the worn-out 
springs, making them creak with his sudden energy 
of sickness. 

I ask you not to touch me he panted. 

But you cannot expect me to obey you, dear great 
one?’^ she said, bending over him, with the smile 
wdiich no other had ever seen. It is the fancy of 
an invalid, — -such a dear invalid ! . . . But you have 
been too much alone, my darling 

She attempted to run her long fingers through his 
hair. 

I beg of you . . . ^^ he reiterated, in the tone 
of one exquisitely tortured. 

Ah, great one, great one, if you knew the anguish 
you make me suffer, you would try to overcome these 
fancies of a sick child. You wring my very heart 

And you mine he stammered. His weak efforts 
to push the heavy chair still farther from her made 
the old wire padding and casters creak again. I 
beg of you to go,^^ he whispered. Only go 

^^My darling! . . . When I have just come to 
care for you I . . . Vladimir, you were never cruel.” 


202 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

I do not mean to be ; . . . that is, I must be 
. . . Do you not see my tortures ? . . . I wish only 
to be alone.’^ 

^^And can you dream for an instant that, even 
although you hated me, I would leave you alone 
when I see you ill? See, I will not touch you: 
. . . I will only stay as your servant, your nurse. 
. . . You cannot refuse that 

Just to be alone, ... to be alone again f’ mur- 
mured the exhausted man, letting his eyes close 
wearily. 

I have said that I will not touch you, Vladimir. 
If you wish it, I will not even speak to you. But 
you cannot, in humanity, tell me to leave you ! You 
cannot expect me to obey such a command as that, — 
you whom I have cradled on my breast in the most 
fearful diseases ! Why, I drank your scorching 
breath when as a little thing of two you had diph- 
theria so that I could get no one to help me nurse 
you but a Sister of Charity ! When they thought 
you threatened with small-pox, it was I — I who 
nursed you night and day, who took you into the bed 
with me, between the very sheets, and placed your 
face upon my bare breast ! And you would send me 
from you now ? Ah, no ! no ! You are a true man, 
tender, gentle, forgiving. You do not really think 
of such a thing ! My son ! . . . my first- and last- 
born 

Nadrovine’s eyes were now fixed upon his mother’s 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 203 

crouchiDg form, in an expression of the most agonized 
entreaty and suffering. His temples and the hollows 
beneath his eyes were beaded with sweat. His breath 
escaped draggingly through his half-parted lips, which 
moved without uttering a sound. Some one laughed 
and ran a halting chromatic scale in the room below 
as though trying to make the soulless, rattling in- 
strument giggle an accompaniment. 

Little ape ! you have been stealing raisins again 
exclaimed a shrill voice from another direction, and 
the sound of two or three smart slaps was followed 
by the droning cries of a small child. 

Answer me, Vladimir ! . . . Answer me, my 
heart, my darling urged his mother, still kneel- 
ing. Her great fur robes, which the sudden cold 
weather had caused her to assume, and which she 
had not removed on entering the chilly apartment, 
hung in soft splendor about her, and rose into a 
muffled background for her face, which shone with 
the luminousness of a moonstone in the white light 
from the patch of sky above. 

It is too much ... I have too much ... ^’ he 
stammered, still staring at her. 

^^Then why do you not wish me to share it? 
Why do you send me away ? I will do whatever 
you wish. See ! All is not as you think. All is 
not lost. Listen, Vladimir. I will tell you. It is 
good news. I will tell you. You shall have her 
after all ! You shall have her, my own ! Vladimir, 


204 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


speak to me ! Speak ! . . . Do not sit so rigid. . . . 
Look at me ! . . . Speak to me !” She rose, stum- 
bling over her heavy furs in her eagerness to reach 
him, but before she could touch him he opened his 
eyes, and something in their expression arrested her 
where she stood. 

No ! . . . no she hastened to assure him, sob- 
bingly. Do not look at me like that ! I am not 
going to touch you. ... I swear it 

The look of relief which crept over his face cut 
her to the quick. She hurt her hands with their 
pinching clasp upon each other. 

You shall have her. ... You shall have her,” 
she repeated, trembling through all her splendid 
frame. 

Do not speak of her !” cried Nadrovine, in a 
dreadful voice. He bent upon her another of those 
looks which had frozen her and with the memory 
of which she was now trembling. 

I know all, — all. It has come to me in my 
loneliness and illness as clear as day. Scales have 
fallen from my eyes. I know everything Every- 
thing has been made clear to me. I no longer think 
that I killed him by accident. No ! it was God who 

drove my sword into the breast of your ” He 

broke off ; his lips remained parted. No ! no ! I 
must not say it ! . . . She is my mother ; . . after 
all, she is my mother. ...” 

Madame Nadrovine loosened her great cloak with 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


205 


a quick gesture and thrust it from her. All of a 
sudden she seemed suffocating. She stood before him 
only in her simple black gown, her bosom rising and 
falling against her clinched hands. 

What is it that you mean she said, almost in 
a whisper. 

“ Do not act to me, my mother,’^ he replied, 
sternly. For in your heart you must believe with 
me that the man whom I killed I was ordained by 
God to kill as my father’s defender.” 

His name burst from her in one terrible cry. And 
then again she uttered it in a heart-broken note of 
anguish and despair : 

You believe that of me ? . . . My God ! my 
God ! . . . He believes that I, his mother, — I, his 
mother,— I, who have worshipped him, who have 
adored him, yes, adored him before very God, even 
as Mary adored her Son ... It is my punish- 
ment ! ... It is my punishment ! . . . Yes, this 
is to be my Hell. ... I will carry it in my breast 
forever !” 

For the first time in his life, Nadrovine saw his 
mother break into piteous weeping, turning from 
him and leaning her face on her arms, which she 
rested against the whitewashed wall. A violent 
shuddering took possession of him. The Western 
Eailway terminus was not far distant, and the shrill 
scream of an approaching train mingled discordantly 
with the chromatic scales which were again sound- 
18 


206 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


ing from the room below. A girl in the house op- 
posite lighted a great lamp and began to read, rock- 
ing back and forth. Nadrovine heard his mother’s 
weeping mingle with the commonplace sounds, in 
an awful discord. The droop of her dark figure 
against the white wall was as abandoned, as desolate, 
as the swaths of crape on white tombstones. Her 
beautiful dark head was bent almost out of sight 
under its weight of misery. 

Oh, my God ! Oh, my God !” he heard her say 
over and over again. The young girl in the oppo- 
site window, whom he could not avoid seeing from 
the side of his eye, seemed to be rocking in time to 
these plaintive, smothered cries. All at once she 
turned, revealing to him her face marred with an- 
guish, — its loosened, trembling lips, its eyes heavy 
with tears. She looked all at once her full age. 
In the cold light from above, her hair seemed sud- 
denly to be streaked with gray. 

^^Do you know me?” she asked, with faltering 
eagerness. “Do you know who I am?” It was 
heart-rending, this last desperate clutching at the 
possibility of his delirium. “ Speak my name. Tell 
me who I am,” she continued, holding herself from 
him, as it were, with the pressure of her strong 
hands against her breast. 

“ Too well. ... I know too well,” he said, in a 
choked voice. 

“ But say it, then ! say it ! . . . Speak my name. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 207 

I wish to hear what you will say. I beg it of 
you r 

^^Oh, my mother/^ exclaimed Nadrovine, ^^do 
you not see that you are killing me? ... I cannot 
forget. ... In spite of all, — ^yes, in spite of all, I 
love you, ... God knows 

He would have gone on, but she flung herself 
against his knees with a great cry. Her face was 
radiant, brilliant, tremulous with smiles, — the face 
of a young mother whose first-born has just been 
placed in her arms. 

Again, — once more ! Say that you love me, 
only once again. It is the answer to my prayer. 
Afterwards the punishment. . . . Vladimir, ... it 
is your mother, — it is your mother who humbles 
herself to you, who prays to you, . . . your small 
one. ... I seem to hold you again in my breast. 
You love me, — you have said it. . . . No matter 
what you believe of me, you love me.’^ 

Nadrovine covered his face with both hands. 

“ Have pity he said, in a hoarse voice. 

But you love me ! . . . you love me !...!• 
can bear anything knowing that. . . . And you will 
overcome this other horrible fancy. I know it. . . . 
When you are strong and well again, you will come 
and kneel to me for forgiveness. Oh, I know, — I T’ 
She leaped to her feet, straightening her tall figure 
superbly. ^^I can bear anything, anything, now,” 
she continued, half chanting the words as she began 


208 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

to move about the little room, drawing a chair into 
place, fastening back one of the bed-curtains of dim 
bluish cretonne which had fallen from its loop of 
tarnished silver cord. She opened the door of the 
ugly little stove and peeped in to see if it needed 
replenishing, tossing in a coal or two with her long, 
white fingers from which she had drawn her gloves. 
The glowing light fell rosily on her sparkling face, 
and on the patches of whitewash which remained 
upon the bosom and sleeves of her black gown from 
their contact with the wall. 

“We must have lights,” she said, excitedly. “It 
is growing dark. And there must be medicine for 
you to take. Where is it? And when did you 
lunch? It must be six o’clock. You must have 
some food. What does the doctor allow you? I 
will go and fetch it myself.” 

Nadrovine, weakened, made incapable of any sus- 
tained effort, by a wasting illness, seemed suddenly 
to have yielded. 

“You will find the medicine in that little cup- 
board in the corner,” he replied. “ Two teaspoon- 
fuls in a wineglass of water.” 

“ And the food, great one, — what must I prepare 
for you ?” 

“Nothing. ... A glass of milk at seven, with 
a little lime-water in it. But I am convalescent 
now. The medicine is only a tonic.” 

She poured it out, holding it up between her eyes 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


209 


and the waning light in order to assure herself of a 
correct measurement. She then lighted a student’s- 
lamp which she discovered on a small table near the 
bed, tearing out the fly-leaf of a book to make a 
lamp-lighter. 

J ust a moment,” she said, as she placed it near 
him, while I bid the concierge to send up a boy 
with my travelling-case.” 

She was only absent a few moments. From the 
case, which had ‘ been placed on the bed, she took 
out one of her favorite white crape peignoirs and 
some pretty, gold-colored mules. Her favorite per- 
fume of white lilacs made spring seem an invisible 
presence in the low, stuffy room. She cast aside her 
black gown, and assumed the peignoir, stooping her- 
self to unbutton her boots, and with her usual dainti- 
ness drawing on stockings of gold-colored silk, in 
place of the black ones which she wore, before as- 
suming the graceful slippers. She then unfastened, 
brushed, and re-braided her long hair, humming to 
herself before the little wavy glass over its shelf in 
the wall as she did so, with her mouth full of hair- 
pins. 

XX. 

As she turned from this task, she saw that Xa- 
drovine had apparently fallen asleep. She stood 
looking down at him, her hand raised half warn- 
ingly, as though entreating his guardian angel not 
to rustle her wings too loudly. She did not touch 

o 18 * 


210 the witness of the sun. 

him ; she scarcely dared to breathe. It took her 
some moments to move to the door softly enough 
and to open it in search of the milk and lime-water 
which was to constitute his dinner. Having slipped 
on her boots again and covered herself from head 
to foot with the fur cloak, she came back with it 
in a little case for ice which she had gone to pur- 
chase herself, and with the last bit of ice which she 
could find at the nearest chemist’s. She placed these 
treasures in the corner of the room which was farthest 
from the stove, and then, glancing at Nadrovine, 
established herself in one of the two remaining 
chairs, with her feet on the other. It was so still 
in this lonely street that the hum of the distant 
thoroughfares reached one no more distinctly than 
the confused murmur of a shell placed at one’s ear, 
and he could hear plainly the ticking of the little 
w^atch which she always wore on her left arm, and 
which seemed to mark time for the crooning noise 
emitted by the pan of water on the stove near by. 

Nadrovine watched her beneath his half-closed 
lids for at least an hour before altering his position. 
He then sighed heavily, and she was at his side 
in a moment with the glass of milk. 

I am afraid you have gone without it too long,” 
she said, anxiously ; but I could not bear to wake 
you.” He drank it obediently, and she then left 
him, saying that while he prepared for bed she would 
sit on the stairway just outside. When she returned 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


211 


he was in bed, and seemed to have fallen asleep 
again from sheer weakness. She ran her strong 
hand once or twice down the bedclothes with a 
gesture of inexpressible tenderness, and then kneeled 
down suddenly, resting her head and hands against 
his feet. Her prayer lasted so long that one might 
have fancied her to have fallen asleep after the ex- 
citement of the past hours; but she rose at last, 
vigorous and self-contained as ever, this time placing 
herself in the chair which Nadrovine had occupied, 
and turning down the lamp. The night passed on. 
Hour after hour slid dayward in a silence broken 
only by the occasional rumbling jolts of some cart 
in the street below, and the incessant purring noise 
of the pan of water, which from time to time she 
rose to replenish. 

A sudden, sharp, clicking sound roused her with 
a start. Broad daylight drenched the misty air 
without, and gave to the bleak whitewashed walls 
surrounding her all the ghastly candor of a corpse’s 
face unveiled by day. Nadrovine was standing, 
entirely dressed, by the open door. It was the 
click of the unoiled latch which had awakened her. 
She was beside him in an instant. 

^^What is it? . . . What do you wish? . . . 
Where are you going ? I will get anything that you 
wish. . . . Come ! Come back to bed.” 

Again she thought him delirious, but he answered 
her gravely and collectedly : 


212 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


I had hoped that you would not wake. ... I 
must go. I have my senses perfectly. ... I have 
thought of it all night.’^ 

Where ? Where is it that you are going 

To Alceron.^' 

To Alceron ! To Normandy ! Whom do you 
know in Normandy? We have no friends there, 
— no one to whose house you could go as an ill 
man.” 

I have said that I am convalescent. And then 
my friend is a priest, — or rather a monk.” 

‘‘ But why do you go to-day ? . . . Why were 
you stealing away from me ? Ah ! come back, I 
implore you, — or at least close the door. That chill 
draught is dreadful.” 

have no time. I must go at once. It is a 
matter of importance.” 

A matter of importance? What can be so im- 
portant as your health?” 

I must go, and at once.” 

“You are determined?” 

“ Absolutely.” 

“ Will nothing, — nothing ” 

No, no. . It is imperative. There is nothing to 
which I could listen.” 

She stood watching him, her face sharp with anxiety. 

“ Then I must go with you !” she broke in, inter- 
rupting him. 

“ Impossible !” said Nadrovine, hastily. “ I have 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


213 


only a few moments. It may be that I will miss 
the train now. There ! There is a whistle now.’^ 

“ That is a train coming in. Cannot you tell the 
difference? A moment, — just a moment.^^ 

No, I cannot wait. It would take too long. 
You could not get ready in time.’^ 

But I am ready now,’^ said his mother. 

While they were speaking, she had thrust her feet 
into her boots, and assumed her long fur cloak, which 
completely hid the' white crape gown underneath, and 
now pressed through the door at his side, fastening 
on her hat with trembling fingers. 

Come, then said Nadrovine, growing paler 
than ever. She followed him down the long flights 
of stairs, her unbuttoned boots sounding clumsily 
on the uncarpeted wood, her hands still nervously 
busy with her hat. They passed together out into 
the raw morning air, which was gradually becoming 
broken and lively with the clattering of the milk- 
maids’ pails, the running of children’s feet along 
the pavement, the bells of hurrying asses, the sound 
of brooms in the opening shop-doors and laughter 
issuing from their dim recesses. Before one of these 
shops a little thing of six was watering the side- walk 
with a large watering-pot, and some of the spray 
dashed Madame Nadrovine’s ankles as she passed 
by, her boots still flapping untidily with her swift 
movements. So unwonted a sight were slovenly feet 
even in summer Paris that the little gamine with 


214 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


the watering-pot paused in her occupation to stare 
after the tall lady who wore yellow silk stockings in 
the street and who left her boots unfastened. Even 
the fruit-venders yawning over their stalls and with 
their chins and throats gilded by the reflected light 
from the piles of oranges beneath were transfixed 
with a sense of bewilderment. 

As they rolled out of the great station, the ball of 
the sun appeared in sodden crimson behind a bank 
of dense gray, making the soaked, dark masses of 
the bridges appear more imposing and sombre than 
ever by its lurid flaring in the water below. 

The whole journey was passed in utter silence. 

She was at last convinced that the excitement of 
fever had nothing to do with his actions. He was 
pursuing some plan long meditated upon, and which 
her presence had probably brought to a crisis. There 
were only two other people in the carriage, — an old 
man, and a child of about nine, — a graceful elf, not 
unlike little Lotta Boutry with her dark curls and 
large gray eyes. She amused herself by making a 
mouse’^ out of her small pocket-handkerchief and 
causing it to jump to difierent parts of the carriage. 
By accident it chanced to strike Nadrovine on the 
hand. He started and turned his head. 

Oh, monsieur ! I ask you a thousand pardon^ 
cried the little witch, growing crimson in a genuine 
embarrassment. Her likeness to Lotta struck him 
at once. He smiled. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 215 

not look so alarmed, my dear,” he said, 
kindly. Come here, and I will show you how to 
make a cur6 with your handkerchief.” And, as the 
child sidled up to him, he gravely drew a knot in 
the bit of cambric, and, placing it over his forefinger 
to represent the curb’s head, proceeded to wave his 
thumb and second finger, as though making the cur4 
gesticulate violently with his arms. He seemed to 
himself to have suddenly become childish, so easily 
was he moved to joining in the child^s merriment 
at the antics of this strange little priest. He then 
talked to her, and told her stories until she fell asleep 
with her head almost in the pocket of his coat. She 
and the old man were both asleep when they reached 
Alceron, and he stooped and kissed her before he got 
out. Had he glanced at his mother, her drawn, set 
face would assuredly have struck to his heart ; but 
he did not turn his head in her direction. In fact, 
he had almost forgotten her presence. His thoughts 
and sensations seemed to him as unfamiliar as the 
scenes which surrounded him. 

As they walked along the principal street of the 
little village, they saw that the sun had disappeared, 
and that a drizzling rain was beginning to fall. The 
booming of the heavy surf thundered through the 
damp air, seeming to make the ground vibrate be- 
neath their feet. Far out at sea fell a leaden gleam 
from a ragged gap in the clouds. The quaint houses 
of black flint mottled with patches of whitewash 


216 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


seemed pushing against each other in their march 
seaward. One could see the splendid, yellow-white 
waves shaking their crests angrily as they reared and 
plunged against the great stone quay. A sail passed 
into the glary light far away, tossed wildly for a mo- 
ment or two, and then dashed on into the gloom be- 
yond, while a keen wind, stinging with salt, swept the 
street from end to end. 

Nad ro vine walked rapidly, bending his head to 
prevent the wind from carrying away his hat, and 
his mother kept close behind him. Moisture dripped 
from her hat, from the sables that enveloped her, 
from her falling hair. Her feet were now drenched, 
and the constant slipping of the unbuttoned boots 
had chafed her heels until each step was a pain. 

They paused before a small house shrinking back 
under its projecting roof like a shy child under its 
hood. Some one spoke through the closed door, and 
Nadrovine answered in Latin. He was admitted at 
once, and his mother, shivering under her heavy 
cloak, crouched down under the shelter of the old 
portico to wait for him. He returned after ' an in- 
terval of perhaps an hour. A man was with him, 
a monk, whose heavy cowl pulled forward concealed 
all of his face except a pale, handsome mouth, and 
a fine chin, bluish with much shaving. 

They passed Madame Nadrovine in silence, and 
walked together down the slanting street, the monk’s 
heavy gown beating about his limbs in the fresh 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


217 


blasts of wind. She struggled after them. Her 
feet now pained her so intensely that she took off 
her boots and hid them under her cloak, experiencing 
a delightful sensation of relief each time that her 
feet sunk to her ankles in the oozing sand. 

The monastery of Alceron is built upon a neck 
of land that juts out into the sea, and its cliffs are 
worn away by the boiling waves like a stack of hay 
nibbled by cattle in winter. It is a great building 
of dark granite, and utterly out of keeping with the 
chapels which flank it, and which are specimens of 
the most soaring Gothic, their slender spires and 
steeples seeming to pierce the low-hanging clouds 
with a species of exultation. 

Up a narrow stairway cut in the stone, and shiny 
with moss, Madame Hadrovine followed the two men. 
She was dazed, breathless, almost callous with mental 
and physical pain. Her eyes seemed pierced by two 
red-hot knitting-needles which, ever turning, were 
thrust deep into her brain. The ceaseless boom of 
the vast breakers seemed part of the tumult in her 
hot head. 

Unfastening her hat, she let it escape from her hand 
and fall whirling down into the sea. It skimmed, 
slanting and dipping, for two or three seconds over 
the white surge, like a raven with a broken wing, 
and then disappeared. She pushed back her satu- 
rated hair and struggled on. Below stretched the 
village, the corn-lands, the plunging ocean. A train 


218 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


rushed through the sodden valley, leaving behind it 
volumes of black smoke, which, uncurling lazily, 
hung low over the drenched fields until they dis- 
solved into the thick air. 

As Nadrovine was about to pass within the iron- 
bound doors of the monastery, however, his mother 
sprang forward and thrust herself between the monk 
and her son. 

Tell me, . . . she cried, — tell me what it is 
that you are going to do 

The monk stared at her in surprise, drawing away 
his gown from the contamination of a woman’s gar- 
ments. 

You shall tell me,” she repeated, — one of you. 
Speak !” 

Who is this woman ?” said the monk to Nadro- 
vine, and was answered in a whisper, and in two 
words ; 

My mother.” 

“ Her place is not here,” said the monk, coldly. 

Have you not made your farewells ?” 

What is this? What do you mean?” cried Ma- 
dame Nadrovine, fiercely. “ I know nothing ! What 
farewells? My son has been desperately ill with 
brain-fever. He is now out of his mind. Yes, it 
is my belief that he is now a maniac from fever. 
What advantage are you trying to take of him? 
Vladimir, come ; let us return. This exposure may 
mean death to you.” 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 219 

It is impossible,” he said, in a dull tone. He 
had not once lifted his eyes from the ground. 

^^You are mad!” said his mother. ^^Yoii are 
beside yourself with fever. — You, whoever you are, 
are taking advantage of an insane man.” 

have been his confessor for eight months,” 
replied the monk. This step has been long medi- 
tated.” 

^^What step? . . . What step?” she exclaimed, 
angrily. Vladimir, answer me yourself. I com- 
mand you.” 

Answer, my son,” said the monk, in a low voice. 
And then these words escaped the lips of Nadrovine 
as though uttered by a machine : 

“It is my desire of my own free will to enter 
the monastery of Alceron as a permanent member, 
to take the vow of silence, and to live a life of self- 
denial both in body and in soul.” 


XXI. 

Madame Nadro vine’s next action astounded the 
monk, who expected a violent scene, accompanied by 
tears and reproaches. She stepped back, gathering 
her wet clothes about her with one of those royal 
gestures which she knew how to assume without 
becoming theatrical, and said, in a clear, self-con- 
tained voice, — 

“Go, then!” 

Nadrovine did not stir. His face preserved its 


220 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


immobile pallor. Not a muscle started or quiv- 
ered. 

Go, then r’ repeated his mother, in her ringing 
tones. Since it is your desire, it is mine also. I 
wish no love nor duty that does not come to me as 
a free gift.’^ 

The deep notes of 'the vesper-bell mingled with 
the strident shriek of a little tug which was ap- 
proaching the quay below. From the doors of the 
monastery came a band of monks, solemn, implacable 
figures in their dark gowns and cowls. They passed 
by the strange group without appearing to notice it, 
and entered the chapel to the right. One heard their 
sonorous chanting muffled by the great walls. 

The monk touched Nadrovine on the shoulder. 
“ It wants but an hour of the time, my son,’’ he 
said. 

Madame Nadrovine had not yet relaxed her defiant, 
towering pose. 

As though impelled by some force within, Na- 
drovine turned and entered the chapel with the 
monk. The ponderous doors closed behind them. 
And at that irrevocable sight the whole force and 
meaning of it all seemed to sweep over the woman 
like a whirlwind. Dashing herself forward, she beat 
the doors with her hands, bruising them on the enor- 
mous iron nails with which they were studded, weep- 
ing, crying aloud, now praying to God, now cursing 
His cruelty which had taken from her the one creature 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


221 


whom she had ever loved. She looked like a mag- 
nificent evil spirit demanding entrance to the sacred 
place, that she might wreak her vengeance on some 
hated one within. Her face, dark and swollen with 
rage, lost every trace of its rare beauty. She called 
down every ill of earth and purgatory upon those 
who had enticed her son from her. The savage in 
her seemed suddenly to have broken through every 
restraint of tradition and custom, and to have trans- 
formed her into a fury whose tongue uttered alter- 
nately the most withering blasphemies and cries for 
mercy like those of an animal which is being vivi- 
sected. 

Her fury exhausted itself at last, and she sank 
down on the chapel steps, letting her head lean back 
against the lintel. Twilight was gathering. A 
broad, violet-colored star throbbed in the sky be- 
tween tatters of wind-torn cloud. In the village, 
and along the quay, lights sprang out against the 
darkness, and on the little tugs they also twinkled 
gayly. The monastery was a sullen, uncompro- 
mising squareness against the pearl -colored sky. 
Hoarse screaming and puffings ascended from the 
water below, sounds of shouting, of bells, of men’s 
and women’s voices mingled in drunken laughter. 
That serene violet flame burned quietly over all. 
The woman fixed on it her hot eyes. It rested her 
to imagine it merely an opening in heaven’s floor, 
rather than another world, vast, and with a misery 
19 * 


222 WITNESS OF THE SUN, 

vaster in proportion than this world upon which 
the wretched drama of her life was being played. 
The intoning of the monks within reached her in a 
melancholy cadence, as indistinct, as weird, as the 
voices of the Seven Sleepers talking in their dreams 
might have sounded to a listener at the mouth of 
their cave. She even caught a whiff of the burn- 
ing incense. Her feet began to ache intolerably, 
with a throbbing, burning pulsation, and she held 
them, first one and then the other, in the palms of 
her hands, which she first cooled upon the stones of 
the damp wall. 

She sat there, it seemed to her, for many hours. 
The heavy doors opened at last, and the warm air 
within rushed out, enveloping her in its steam of 
breath and incense, and the odor of woollen gowns, 
sandal-wood, leather, moth-eaten embroideries. The 
monks each carried a tall taper which left behind it 
a little stream of brown smoke, and which brought 
out clearly the modelling of mouths and chins. She 
let them pass, thirty, forty, even fifty, and then she 
leaped forward and threw her strong arms around 
the fifty-first. He staggered, swayed, his candle 
falling from his hand and singeing her hair as it 
fell. The darkness hid his face. There was con- 
fusion among the monks : they wavered and halted, 
not knowing what had happened. 

Vladimir ! Vladimir groaned a woman’s 
voice, in an ecstasy of pain, — my great one, — my 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 223 

only one, — my son, — speak ! Say some word to me ! 
My son ! My son 

He struggled with her in silence. The solemn 
vows which he had just taken sealed his lips. The 
other monks were jilso of a necessity silent. They 
jostled against each other in awed curiosity, drop- 
ping the hot wax from their tapers on their sandalled 
feet and blowing gowns. Many of the candles 
were extinguished. One of the monks took Na- 
drovine by the arm and tried to force him along, 
but the woman was stronger than he had thought ; 
her arms held the knees of her son as in a hoop of 
steel : 

Speak to me ! Speak to me ! I command you, 
— I, your mother, — I who gave you birth. You are 
my flesh, torn from me with horrible pain. My life, 
my youth, everything I have given to you. You 
have no right ! God will curse you, and all these 
with you ! You will die horribly ! My curse will 
be upon you ! My curse will be upon all these who 

have taken you from me ! May God 

Some one thrust her roughly backward, and she 
fell, her head striking one of the stone steps. The 
procession passed on. One of the monks hesitated, 
and half turned, but was pressed forward by those 
behind. They were all received into the vast hall 
of the monastery of Alceron, and its vine- wood doors 
closed behind them. 

When she opened her eyes at last, that violet-hued 


224 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


star still pulsed quietly over Alceron, but there were 
multitudes to keep it company. The sky was sown 
with them, and they pricked the heaving water below 
with sharp little blades of light. 

The noise of laughter and singing still rose from 
the quay below. On her left the black pile of the 
monastery wore a solemn grandeur. She lifted her 
arms towards it and cursed it, together with all its 
inmates, then, turning, groped her way with her deli- 
cate bare feet and hands towards the moss-covered 
fitairway in the rock. That feeling of unreality which 
always attends one in a great crisis claimed and over- 
powered her. She endeavored to descend the slippery 
stairs, but, after falling once or twice, sat down and 
worked her way along by the aid of her arms and 
the pressure of her feet against the stone directly 
below her. When she finally found herself at the 
bottom, she did not know which way to go. Fixing 
her eyes on the brightest light visible, she began to 
walk towards it. 

After perhaps half an hour, she found herself 
before a tavern, which was brilliantly lighted .for so 
small a village, with several large oil lamps, but, 
strange to say, the crowd had collected outside of 
the open door instead of within. 

One of the men caught sight of her as she came 
forward, her dark hair hanging about her face in 
sodden disorder, some blood from a wound which 
she had received in one of her falls when attempting 


THE witness of THE SUN. 


225 


to descend the stone stairway staining her temple and 
cheek, her robe of sable pulpy and forlorn like the 
coat of some drenched wild beast. 

You’re a pretty sight !” called one of the men, 
roughly, — a brawny sailor with a head of matted 
black curls and the jaw of an Irishman. I say,” 
he roared to the others, she looks like a bear that 
has just swallowed a woman all but her head !” 

There was a chorus of appreciative laughter. The 
woman whom they ridiculed stared at them coldly. 
When the laughter had subsided, she asked, in a 
calm voice, — 

“ Why do you stay out here in the street to bellow, 
when you might be in that room there ?” 

The crowd received this remark in silence, being 
rather overwhelmed at her coolness. 

You are one to ask questions, mafoi I” exclaimed 
one of the women, finally, with a light impertinence. 

I should wish to know where you would find your- 
self if we asked you all the questions that we felt 
disposed to ask !” 

I should remain where I now am and endeavor 
to answer them civilly,” replied Madame JSTadrovine, 
in the same tranquil voice. A little mumbling of 
applause was heard at this, and she took advantage 
of it to repeat her question. The people were be- 
ginning to see that she was no common character, 
and one of the men answered her with a certain 
respect, — 

P 


226 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN, 


It is Jean Givelot, who is ill with the fever, — 
at least with that and a mixture of the drink-crazi- 
ness. We were all in there when he was taken. I 
went for the doctor. It was drolf to see us when 
he said what it was. We all tumbled on each other 
in our haste to get outside, like so many sheep. Cr6 ! 
our sweethearts had to take care of themselves, I tell 
you. The devil might have had the hindmost, for 
all we cared !’’ And again a shout of merriment 
ascended. As it died away, there could be heard the 
groans and entreaties of the man within : 

Do you not see them ? Do you not see them ? 
A hundred thousand great pink rats. They are clear 
like jelly; one can see through them. And their 
tails wriggle like serpents. They nibble me. Oh ! 
oh ! they are serpents ! They nibble me and sting 
me all at once. Oh 

You hear,^’ said the man, significantly. It is 
this way with him once every two or three years, 
and it is bad enough, God knows; but now that 
he has the fever with it, one can’t tell where it will 
end.” 

Who is with him ?” said Madame Nadrovine. 

^^No one. The doctor has gone to fetch some 
one ; that is, if he can find any one just for the night. 
A nurse has been telegraphed for.” 

Yes, I took the telegraph. The doctor promised 
me two sous,” said a little monkey who stood by, 
expanding his naked brown chest. 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 227 

And there is no one with him said Madame 
Nadrovine again. 

No one ! not a soul ! not even a cat resounded 
from all sides. 

She moved forward, pushing open the door, which 
swung easily at her touch. 

You are all cowards, — all human beings,^’ she 
said, in her clear^ voice, and, before they knew it, 
had passed into the. room beyond, through the door 
with its transparent glass panes which had Le Caf6 
Dor6, Jean Givelot Propri^teur,^^ in an arch of gilt 
letters across its clear expanse. They flattened their 
faces against the panes, watching her walk across 
the floor and disappear within a room beyond, from 
whence issued those dreadful cries. 

When the reckless woman entered this apartment 
she fully expected the crazed man to fly at her and 
perhaps to strangle her ; but he was crouching pite- 
ously in a distant corner behind a barricade of chairs 
and other small articles of furniture, over which his 
wild face peered timidly, convulsed with fear. He 
was a small creature, with a lean brown face, hair of 
that pale hue which seems only a darker shade of 
flesh-color, and small black eyes under thick, red- 
dish lids. His flaccid mouth worked from side to 
side over his projecting teeth. 

The rats ! the rats he moaned. Oh, help me 
to drive them away ! Each has a little one with it. 
They are talking rats. They say, ^ Jean Givelot, 


228 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

Satan has sent us to gnaw your heart and let out 
the good brandy in it!’ Yes! yes! I know it. I 
have known it a long while. My heart is full of 
brandy, like one of those chocolate bon-bons which 
Marie sent from Paris last Easter. Oh, the little 
cold feet ! They patter all over me ! They leave 
blisters full of brandy. Oh ! oh ! I sweat it at every 
pore. I will melt and stream away under the door, 
and then those vagabonds outside will dip me up in 
a cup and drink me ! Ah ! ah ! how I will burn 
them ! I am poisonous through and through. 
These rats that nibble me, — see how they are 
dying. There are three layers on the floor. They 
swell like drums as soon as their teeth go in me. 
By and by they will be up to my knees, then to my 
breast. Oh ! help ! help ! They will rise above 
my head and sufibcate me ! I shall die horribly ! 
It is what Marie said. She would say, ^Jean 
Givelot, if you do not mend your ways, some day 
you will perish horribly.’ Oh ! oh ! Marie ! Marie ! 
bonne maman ! call away the rats ! call away the 
rats ! I will be good ! I will be good !” 

XXII. 

Madame Nadrovine threw aside her heavy cloak, 
and advanced towards him. He had not noticed 
her when she entered the room, but now as she 
approached him in her long white peignoir he 
uttered a low wail of terror and clutched his face 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


229 


in both hands, flattening himself against the wall 
behind. 

Oh ! oh ! I called bonne maman ! and there she 
is ill her long white grave-clothes. Good bonne 
maman, dear, kind, good bonne maman, don’t hurt 
your poor, poor little Jean, who promises to be good. 
I will never steal the liqueur of the brandied peaches 
again. I will take out the stones for you and peel 
them all day long. Ugh! how she smells of the 
grave ! how she smells of the grave !” he ended, in 
a lower tone, as though to himself. 

^^Come,” said Madame Nadrovine, soothingly, 

I am not angry. I have come to help you to be 
good. See, first I will drive all the rats away.” She 
took up a towel from one of the chairs and began 
whipping the air and floor with it. She walked 
slowly around the room, beating it about her, and 
then, after making the motions of driving things 
out of the door, she closed it and returned quietly. 

You see, they are all gone,” she said, in her calm, 
reassuring voice, and I have pushed the dead ones 
out with my foot. It is all quiet. Come and lie on 
the bed while I say a charm that will make the brandy 
in your heart evaporate and let you sleep.” 

He glanced timidly at her through his quivering 
fingers, which he parted a little. 

‘‘Then you are not angry? You will not beat 
me?” 

“ Certainly not. You see that I have driven all 
20 


230 the witness of the sun. 

the rats away. Come and let me help you on the 
bed.^^ 

But, bonne maman, you used always to beat me 
when I stole the liqueur ; and then, too, you look so 
horrible in your long shroud. It makes me creep 
all over. I feel as though I were lined with ice.^^ 

Silly fellow ! this is not my shroud. This is the 
robe that I wear as an angel. If you will come and 
lie on the bed, I will let you hold a fold of it, and it 
will make you sleep and drive away all evil dreams ” 
She began to take away the pile of chairs and foot- 
stools one by one, talking to him in a low, even 
voice all the while. He would shrink nervously 
away as the white fingers came near him, but sub- 
mitted docilely, and at last stepped forward and 
allowed himself to be guided to the bed. Just as 
he put one knee on it, however, he gave a howl of 
terror and caught Madame Nadrovine about the 
knees, plunging his head into the damp folds of 
her gown. 

Oh ! oh !” he moaned, there are worms in it ! 
— black worms, with heads like little goblins,— two 
white dots for eyes, and a mark for the nose and 
mouth ! they are like the figures you used to draw 
for me on my slate, bonne maman ! Do not make 
me get in there ! I shall die ! I shall die of horror ! 
They stand on their tails and wave from side to side. 
Oh, you will kill me if you make me get in there f ’ 
Madame Nadrovine shook him off wdth a gesture 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 231 

of angry disgust. He fell back, supporting himself 
with one hand, and staring up at her. 

^^You know you are angry, bonne maman,^^ he 
whimpered. ^^You know you mean to beat me. 
But why did you put the worms there, if you wanted 
me to get in the bed 

Great tears began to roll down his face, and he 
tucked them in his mouth with his tongue as they 
fell, still blinking up at her. She made a strong 
effort and regained her patience. 

‘^Come, stupid boy,^^ she said. There are no 
worms there now. I have turned them all into 
little sparrows, and they have flown away. Look, 
I assure you it is so.’’ 

She finally coaxed him to lie down, and after about 
fifteen minutes the anodyne which the doctor had 
given him before leaving began to work, and he fell 
into a heavy, stertorous sleep, with his flabby lips 
hanging loosely, and his eyeballs showing in glazed 
streaks between his fleshy lids. 

Madame Nadrovine sat in a low chair opposite 
the bed, and took in every detail of the unconspious 
mass of ugliness with her clear, cold eyes, — the thin, 
clammy hair, streaking the bulging forehead, the 
putting in and out of the swollen lips with the 
harsh breaths that escaped them, the revolting coarse- 
ness of throat and nostrils, and the pendulous, red 
ear-lobes covered with a fuzz of whitish hair. 

He slept on and on, and she sat without moving, 


232 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

never taking her eyes from that bleared face. Her 
fair, naked feet, covered with dried sand, were crossed 
unconcernedly in front of her, and she had thrown 
one of her arms over the back of the chair ; the 
other followed listlessly the curve of her thigh out- 
lined by the damp crape. In the street outside the 
crowd was thinning, but some remained and whis- 
pered together with important noddings and finger- 
shakings. Every one was on the lookout for the 
doctor, being desirous to be the first to impart to 
him the news of the strange woman who had ap- 
peared suddenly out of the night, like a great black 
witch,’’ as one of the men said. 

When poor Givelot’s ravings finally ceased, they 
were more convinced than ever that she had some 
unholy power which she used freely to soothe him. 

I tell you she is a witch,” insisted the sailor, 
wisely. “She has just the look in her eyes of a 
Breton woman I once saw, who had eaten the livers 
of ten black cats, raw, at midnight, lying face down 
on her father’s grave, and after that she could, drive 
out devils and see things that she couldn’t feel. I 
tell you I know what I say !” 

Madame Nadrovine continued her silent watch. It 
had lasted now for nearly two hours. As the clock 
over the door gave a wheezy click preparatory to 
striking, she rose and approached the bed. Givelot 
had not moved. An idea had been forming in the 
woman’s mind for some time past. She put her hand 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


233 


on the pillow, and looked over her shoulder around 
the room. No one was there. The door was closed 
and latched. There was a little plaster-cast figure 
of the Virgin on a bracket at the foot of the bed, 
and she went and kneeled down before it in silence, 
her large eyes fastened on its sugar-like pink dra- 
peries. Then she rose and came back to the man’s 
side. 

It will be the expiation ; it will wipe out that 
other kiss, and my son will be restored to me.” 

Stooping, she pressed her fresh, cool lips to those 
of Jean Givelot, through which his breath, scorch- 
ing with fever and liquor, escaped in gusts. 

It was her desire to woo death in the most horrible 
way possible, to take the fever, and to be forgiven by 
Nadrovine on her death-bed. 

Before daybreak Madame Nadrovine was herself 
raving in another room at the Caf6 Dor6, but not 
with the fever.” She was threatened with pneu- 
monia, and the little thermometer which the doctor 
slipped under her arm already registered one hun- 
dred and four degrees. 

Nadrovine — or Brother F4licien, as he was now 
called — having obtained permission from the abb^ to 
have inquiries made in Alceron regarding his mother, 
she was moved as soon as possible to a home con- 
ducted by some Soeurs Blancs about fifteen miles 
from the village. The journey, though attended 
with every possible precaution, had the effect of 
20 * 


234 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN 


throwing her again into a hot fever and delirium, 
in which state she remained for nearly thirteen days. 
One would scarcely have known her. Her beautiful 
tresses cut close to her head disclosed its delicate 
symmetry, which had been somewhat concealed by 
the abundance of dark braids. Her fine skin had 
assumed the livid, damp appearance of a wax figure 
slightly melted by a series of long summer days. 
Against it her graceful sweeping brows stood out 
boldly, almost harshly, as though one had tied a 
narrow band of black velvet about her forehead. 
Her dark eyes, constantly rolling, could be seen in 
bluish, raised shadows under her lids. Her cheeks 
and lips had fallen, becoming drawn and yellowish, 
and her whole face, had that withered look which 
one sees in a tea-rose that has been placed too near a 
fire. 

Those calm and stately maidens with their serene 
faces framed in sleek, iron-glazed linen, heard strange 
words during that month of steady nursing. For 
hours and hours the monotonous murmur would go 
on, almost as though she were talking in her sleep. 
One strange peculiarity was that she rarely unclosed 
her eyes, and never when delirious. They seemed to 
be turned inward on her own perplexed, suffering 
spirit. She always fancied that her son was again a 
baby lying in her eager arms. 

‘^You see how strong he is,” she would say. 

When he stretches, his little back is like steel ; 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 235 

and I can scarcely hold his chin when he yawns. 
And he pinches my breast with his little fingers 
when he is nursing, until it hurts ; I tell you, it 
really hurts. There are little blue marks where he 
has hurt me. Oh, it is divine to feel the little mouth 
drawing my life into his ! It seems as though I were 
full of the light of heaven, and that he fed upon it 
instead of milk. I did not wish a child, you know. 
Now I do not wish anything else. He lies in my 
breast at night until the warmth of his little body 
makes us both moist where our flesh comes in con- 
tact. Sometimes I love him so that I desire to hurt 
him. Then I have to call to Elsa to come quick ! 
quick ! I tell her, and she laughs. She tells me 
that I will not feel so when I have six more just 
like him. Just like him ! The blessed Mary knew 
that no other could be like her first-born ; and it is 
so that I feel. ^ Out of the strong came forth sweet- 
ness.^ It is like that about Ivan and his son. All 
the love that I ought to have given my husband 
I give to his child. That is not disloyal. It is part 
of him as well as of me. I love him in loving his 
son. Oh, I cannot bear to think that my baby’s lips 
will ever be pressed to those of another woman with 
more love than they have felt for me ! I do not 
wish him to marry. Perhaps he will be a great 
priest. Oh, I cannot let him grow out of my arms 
into those of another woman ! Just to think that 
she who may steal him from me is perhaps yet un- 


236 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


born, that perhaps they who are to be her parents 
are yet unknown to each other ! May they never 
meet! I wish that in heaven I may always rest 
without pain, as one after great pain, with my baby 
in my arms. I do not wish another. It would seem 
like sacrilege. Perhaps the Virgin Mother would 
let me whisper to her of my bliss. Perhaps she 
would come sometimes and talk to me while I nursed 
him, and kiss his beautiful brow. And I would 
tell her of how I feared and dreaded, and perhaps 
she would tell me that she had feared and dreaded 
too. And then we would both fall to sleep upon 
her breast. Oh, he is so sweet ! — so sweet ! Look 
at his little chest ; Elsa says that i^ is very broad, 
the broadest she ever saw. He will be tall, and 
very strong. Oh, to think that the day will come 
when he will be stronger than I am ! Ah ! if we 
could only die together now and remain a mother 
and child forever in heaven 

It was in this way that she would murmur on for 
days and nights at a time. 

XXIII. 

It was only two weeks after Nadrovine had taken 
his vow, and at the height of his mother’s illness, 
that he was sent on an errand of mercy to a family 
of starving wretches who were also ill with the fever, 
and who lived in Yaudebec, a village some ten miles 
distant. The road lay inland for about seven miles, 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 237 

and then followed the coast, which was totally unlike 
the rocky cliffs upon which Alceron descended in a 
series of terraces towards the qu^s. The beach was 
a broad, level stretch of fawn-colored sand, across 
which the figure of a girl rolling her wheelbarrow of 
sea-weed would come out into picturesque relief as 
she walked slowly, her sabots compressing the wet 
sand about them until it looked like cracking ice 
with each footstep. Now a woman on a donkey 
approached, her figure reflected, broken but life-like, 
in the strips of sand-divided pools in front. Chil- 
dren rolled laughing in the hazy sunlight, adorning 
themselves with shells and broad ribbons of sea- 
weed, and burying one another in the sand. One 
little imp of seven snatched away his sister’s necker- 
chief as Nadrovine advanced, leaving her plump, 
reddening shoulders bare, in order to pull it over 
his charmingly. impertinent little visage, as though it 
were a cowl. He held his hands folded and walked 
along behind Brother F^licien, imitating to the full 
compass of his sturdy legs the monk’s slow, swing- 
ing gait. Nadrovine turned and smiled at him over 
his shoulder. The pranks of children never irritated 
him. 

He reached the village at last, and was returning 
saddened and inexpressibly exhausted by the brutal, 
violent misery which he had witnessed, when a clear 
voice roused him, — a child’s voice. 

Oh !” it rang out in a note of distress, what 


238 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

shall I do? My poor Zi-Zi! I buried him alive 
just to have an effect on that hard-hearted Nico- 
letta, and now I can’t find his grave !” 

Nadrovine stopped short, not knowing which way 
to turn, and little Lotta Boutry flashed by him on 
her slender red-silk legs, her frock of white flannel 
blowing back in the steady wind, and her dark head 
uncovered. The child’s skirts touched him as she 
flew. And then another figure advanced. It was 
Ilva, so slight, so pale, that she looked like a moon- 
beam which had assumed a woman’s shape. She 
wore a gown of black serge, and there was a black 
silk handkerchief knotted about her throat. She 
had no hat, and carried a large raw-silk umbrella 
over her shoulder, turning it listlessly as she walked. 
One could see the violet tones of delicate health in 
her throat and temples at some distance. 

She smiled in answer to the child’s appeal, but 
her eyes were piteously grave in contrast. Her voice 
was so low that Nadroyine could not hear what she 
said ; he only saw that they were coming towards him 
hand in hand. His presence of mind forsook him 
utterly. He had that sensation of being petrified 
which assails one sometimes in a dream where one 
finds one’s self standing on a railway, facing an ad- 
vancing train, and yet powerless to leap aside. They 
were quite close to him; the child almost touched 
him. A fatal weakness came over him, a deadly sen- 
sation of blackness, in which the world seemed swing- 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 239 

ing in great circles, and his very* marrow dissolving 
in an icy nausea. 

Oh, cousine shrieked the child, look at "the 
poor monk ! He is ill ! He is falling 

He felt the girPs nervous arm thrust under his, and 
her slight figure brace itself to support him. 

Lean on me, I beg of you,’’ she said, anxiously. 

You must be suffering very much. Are — are you 
hungry?” she stammered a little with a gracious 
embarrassment. ^‘We have our luncheon here, 
which we do not want. We were just talking of 
giving it to the first little child that we met. I 
pray you to lean on me. I am much stronger than 
I look.” He was forced to catch at the delicate 
shoulder in order to stand. Her eyes fell on his 
bare hand. It was sufficient. 

‘^Vladimir!” she said, in a voice which seemed 
to sweep away earth and sky and to leave only their 
two lives beating there against each other once more. 
It was only an instant : in another he had freed him- 
self of her touch and stepped back, shuddering vio- 
lently, and trying to conceal his face from her. She 
followed him ; she held him again with her hands. 
Again all things seemed to slip from him, but the 
consciousness that she was there, near him, and that 
her voice spoke his name. He could not even say 
hers in return. His lips were sealed. His newly- 
taken vows bound him. All his blood seemed foam-^ 
ing upward to his heart and swelling for a vent. 


240 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


He tried to shake her off. She held him desper- 
ately : they half slipped, and in recovering himself 
his cowl was shaken back. 

Oh, my God she cried, in a tone of indescrib- 
able pain, will you not even speak to me ? And 
you have been ill. You are changed. You look 
older. It frightens me ! You frighten me ! Eun, 
run, Lotta, — run away to your dolls. I will come 
presently. I have much to say to Signor Ya- 
drovine.^^ 

The child went at once, her little, serious face 
pallid with the excessive greatness of the shock. 
She could not resist turning her head every now 
and then, as she walked away, to see what they were 
doing. They still stood where she had left them, 
Yadrovine with his head bent and turned away, Ilva 
with her whole figure yearning towards him, her 
hands locked together in a gesture of impassioned 
prayer. The child sat down in the shade of the 
umbrella which she rested on the sand, and tried to 
compose herself by talking to her dolls. 

I was going to get raaman to make you a monk’s 
gown, my dear Zi-Zi,” she said, gravely; ^‘but I 
don’t think it will do. It seems to change people 
horribly. I don’t think I should ever have known 
Monsieur Yadrovine if it hadn’t been for Cousine 
Ilva. Perhaps when Viola gets broken — ^yes, per- 
haps then I will let you have a monk’s gown.” 
She had placed the umbrella, with her usual dainty 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 241 

discreetness, so that it hid Nadrovine and Ilva from 
her sight, and she was so far away that she could 
hear nothing. 

I know you will speak to me, I know you will 
speak to me, Vladimir,’^ the girl was saying. 
^^What is it? Are you too ill to speak? Oh, 
Vladimir, tell me what to do. Think of what I 
have suffered. I would have died, I think, only I 
was so strong I could not. I used to think some- 
times, ^ Now it is coming. This pain is too awful 
to last. God would not wish one to endure such 
pain any longer.^ But then a dulness would come 
for a time instead of death, and I would feel noth- 
ing for hours. I could not even believe that I had 
ever felt anything. It did not seem to me as though 
I could have suffered as I thought. And then, all 
at once, when I felt safe and was trying to think 
only of heaven and the peace of God, it would come 
crashing back. I used to feel as though my soul 
and body were being ground together in a great red- 
hot iron hand. Oh, Vladimir, you are mine, — you 
are my very own, as I am yours ! You promised 
— you vowed it to me. Any vows that you have 
taken since cannot wipe out those. Oh, Vladimir, 
remember ! You have been ill. It was a madness. 
I know it so well. Many and many a time I have 
longed to become a nun, and then I would think, 
^No ! God means us to meet again. He means us 
to have each other. I feel it. I must wait. I must 
L ^ 21 


242 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

be patient.’ Vladimir, I have been so patient, — I 

have waited so long My God ! he turns from 

me ! . . . He does not love me any more ! He does 
not love me any more !” 

A groaning cry was wrenched from Hadrovine. 
In a moment the girl was on her knees beside him, 
kissing his coarse gown, reaching upward with her 
little, thin hands for his, clutching his wide sleeves, 
sobbing, laughing, talking, all in a breath : 

^‘Vladimir, Vladimir, you will speak to me? 
You do love me? You will tell me everything, 
my darling, my darling? Oh, was it because you 
thought my father’s death would stand between us ? 
Vladimir, I prayed to our blessed Lord with fast- 
ing, to guide me, and as it was an accident, . ... as 

it was an accident Oh, Vladimir, at least we 

can love each other, if we cannot be married. At 
least you will let me love you, and know that you 
love me. Dear, I knew that it would come between 
us. I knew that you thought I would never forgive 
you. You did not know me. You did not know 
me. Ah, but the sun can be a witness to my love 
-for you ! Ah, Vladimir, Vladimir, it is such joy to 
see you, to be with you again, that it is almost as 
much a pain as sorrow. Oh, turn your face to me ! 
let me see your eyes, — let me see you, Vladimir ! 
Give me your hands and lift me up.” 

She kneeled, straining her slight body upward, yet 
without touching him, her pure face as pathetic in 


I 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 243 

contrast; with her slender black-gowned figure as a 
flower left blooming on a charred stem. 

He dared not look at her. He tried not to hear 
her, — not to think. 

She waited for him a long while. At last she said, 
in a voice exquisitely gentle in its faltering gHef, — 
Then you do not love me 

Again she waited. At last she rose from her 
knees, the damp sand clinging in patches to her 
black skirt. 

will go. ... It must be very painful. If 
you will pray for me -sometimes, ... I will always 
... I will always . . . ’^ She stopped, struggling 
to control herfeelf, and putting her hand to her throat, 
which ached sharply. ^^I will . . . yes, always 
... it is for always with me ... I have taken 
no new vows ... It cannot be a sin for me . . . 
But sometimes, ... if you will, . . . just a word 
when you pray for— for those who are not happy 
.... Since you will not speak to me, if you will 
only lift your hand ... I will understand, . . . 
and . . . and go.’^ 

There was another silence, and then she turned to 
go, very slowly, dragging each slender foot as though 
in bodily pain. All at once he turned, straightening 
his whole figure. He held out his arms to her, his 
face blanched with an unutterable struggle. His 
voice rang out calling her name : 

Ilva I . . . Do not go. . . . 


I am a coward. 


244 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


. . . But I love jou.^’ As she rushed towards him, 
lightly, swiftly, her arms extended almost like a thing 
flying, his hands dropped at his sides. 

“ Do not touch me,’^ he said. “ I am a coward, 

. . . and perjured. Do not let me break more than 
one vow. ... I will speak, — ^yes ; but I must not 
touch you. . . . Help me. . . . You see how weak 
I am. Do not tempt me 

Oh, my dear one,’’ she answered, indeed, indeed 
I will not. I will even go at once, if you wish it. 
It is enough to have heard you say that you love 
me. Tell me, what is it that you wish of me ? Why, 
I could take your hand and walk calmly out into the 
sea there and be drowned with you if it was needful. 
Or I could go by myself, if it would help you. Just 
to have seen you and heard you speak, saying you 
loved me, — and then my name once more, — ah ! that 
was sweet !” She stood gazing at him, great tears 
brimming in her eyes, and her hands clasped together 
against her breast. 

Tell me ; and whatever you say, I will do it,” 
she repeated. 

Forgive, . . . forgive !” stammered the man, 
completely overmastered. “ It is terrible to suffer 
so. . . Perhaps for me . . . but what have you done, 
. . . my star, . . . my lily ?” He muttered to him- 
self, ^^My God, my God ! Thou wast crucifled. . . . 
Have mercy.” 

“ Oh, Vladimir,” said the girl, do not think that 


THE WITNESS OF THE ^ SUN. 


245 


I will give you more to bear ! I will try to help 
you in every way. I am here as long as you need 
me. And when you bid me to go, — ah, you shall 
see how obedient I will be.’^ 

It is not as you think, he said. That came' 
between us. Yes ; . . . but I did not mean it. There 
was more. I can never explain ; but you will trust 
me. There was more, — more, — which made it im- 
possible. ... It was for that I became a monk. 
But you will believe that I would have been true to 
you in love and in purity with nothing but your 
memory to bind me until I died.’^ These last sen- 
tences rang out passionately, unbroken, triumphant. 

Oh, with all my soul ! with all my soul she 
cried, her face radiant. J trust you, believe you, 
love you ! It will be forever 

Yes, forever,’^ he said, making the sign of the 
cross between them. They stood gazing at each 
other in a heart-broken silence. 

And you must go away from me V’ she said at 
last, wistfully. I must leave you ? . . . Tell me,” 
timidly, would it be a sin for me iust to kiss your 
hand?” 

He could not answer her, and, taking his silence 
for consent, she approached him; but he folded his 
hands in his sleeves, making a faint gesture of nega- 
tion with his head. 

^^I must not?” she said, her sweet face falling. 

Well, then, since you wish it. . . . You shall see 
21 * 


246 WITNESS OF THE SUN. 

how brave I am. . . . Must it be without anything, 
. . . without even so much as touching your hair? 
. . . Well, then, I will, — will. ... I ask the 
dear Christ to be with you. . . . Perhaps if I am 
patient . . . And there is all eternity. It will be 
a sweet pain ... to wait for you. . . . And I am 
not very strong.’^ 

Nadrovine buried his face in his hands, trembling 
in every limb. The tide was going out. The shallow 
pools glowed like vast opals in the level light of the 
sun. The west was brilliant with crimson clouds in 
the shape of a great flamingo flying southward. 
Lotta, tired of her one-sided conversation with her 
wax and china family under the umbrella, had taken 
off her shoes and stockings and was wading about 
among the pools. She was quite far out, — a tiny 
splash of indigo among the soft and vivid hues of 
heaven and water. 

^‘Ah, don’t! don’t!’’ pleaded Ilva. You break 
my heart. . . . And, after all, ... is it not a sweet 
thought? ... We shall have each other there^ . . . 
I will be so patient, so brave. . . . Ah, Vladimir, 
... I have such a beautiful thought, . . . oh, a 
thought so divine that my flesh seems to melt away 
and leave me just my soul to remember it ! It is 
this : I will live so pure, so true, so good a life on 
earth, that when I come to you in heaven I will 
take you by the hand, and you shall hear with me 
the words that our dear Lord will say to tell me of 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


247 


the joy that I have given Him and the love that He 
has always poured upon me !” 

Hadrovine remained gazing at her in unspeakable 
awe and adoration. The whole light of the gorgeous 
sky was upon them. Her pale hair was like still 
flame about her face, — like a halo. He felt that he 
must kneel to her as in worship. And there was a 
beautiful, happy smile on her face. 

All at once a shrill cry rang out, bringing them 
back to earth : 

“ Cousine ! . . . cousine ! I am sinking ! I am 
sinking in a great hole !” 

They flew together. The child was already up to 
her knees in the quicksand. Wrapping his arms 
around her, Nadrovine drew her out by a supreme 
efibrt, and threw her from him as far as he could. 

‘^Eun l run he called to her. ^^Ilva, run, my 
darling ! I do not know how far this slough reaches. 
Tt has me, — I feel it. Eun for help V’ 

She turned from Lotta, whom she had hastened to 
soothe, and saw that his heavy weight had caused 
him to sink nearly to his waist in this short time. 
She knew that help was impossible. Her mind was 
made up in an instant. 

Eun ! run, Lotta she said, echoing his words. 
“ Eun for help, and do not look back, or you will 
lose time.” 

The child started ofi* like a hare. With a swift 
movement Ilva sprang into the quicksand at Na- 


248 


THE WITNESS OF THE SUN. 


drovine’s side. She put her arms about his neck, 
her lips to his. Far along the broad brown sands 
the light figure of the child scudded with the speed 
of desperation. The distant tide made a soft moan- 
ing. A flock of sails leaning to westward passed 
into a shaft of rose-colored light. The clouds floated 
on serenely, — of gauze, — of soft wool, — of banners 
of crape across the heavens. At last the sky was a 
placid dome of topaz above the quiet sea. Over 
shore and inland a beautiful peace brooded, broken 
only by the calm wings of a nestward dove, the one 
living thing visible. 

The Sun had been a Witness. 


THE END. 


720 










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